Say It Back
by PirateTurtle4
Summary: dale just wanted to forget about what had happened.saul just wanted to smoke and hang out with dale,even if dale thought it was bad for his health.but there's something even worse than a mean case of the munchies looming over them...responsibilities.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Yet another slash dragged forth by a plot bunny residing deep in the recesses of my brain. This one has been growing for quite some time now, and I've only recently gotten around to typing it. _

_Why do hospitals smell so…weird? It's like a bunch of lemons and pine trees got together and had an orgy with a bunch of dead people. That's just what I'd want to smell if I had to drip my life away through tubes…._

Dale stood up from the hard plastic chair and stretched. Ok, so Saul wasn't dying. At least, that's what the doctors told him. What the hell did they know anyway? He hadn't seen for himself that his best friend was fine. When _he_ saw that Saul was ok, then he'd relax.

The nurse behind the reception desk watched him from the corner of her eye. Dale had tried to sneak into Saul's room three times now, and they were threatening to kick him out if he tried again. He slumped into the seat, legs stretched out in front of him. His ear still twinged, but he forced himself to ignore it. The docs had dressed it as best they could, but it wasn't like they could re-attach it. Saul had told him he was gonna start calling him Van Gogh from now on. That had been right before Saul slumped in his seat onto Dale's lap, completely unconscious.

Dale bit his lip nervously. He was going to be fine. It was just some second degree burns…that were almost third degree along his back. Paired with the pulled groin, beating from Carol the cop, Matheson roughing him up, car chases, being hit by a car, he'd just been done. Dale had to carry him in slung across his back, seeing as Red was nearly out himself, and there was no way Saul's grandmother could help them. She hadn't even stayed; just dropped them off and left with the hurried explanation of not wanting to miss bingo at the nursing home.

Saul couldn't make up his mind which was worse, being awake or being knocked out on pain killers. When he was conscious, he was alone. And Dale was just beyond the door, except he couldn't get up and walk out. Besides his back aching like a bitch, whatever meds the nurse had hooked him up with had left everything fuzzy, and he didn't quite trust his legs. Although for all he knew, they weren't even attached anymore, and were at that very moment in a cooler on their way to some seedy black market.

Shuddering at that thought, he reached for his sheet, just to check that he still had legs, but his hand didn't seem to be getting any closer to the sheet. In fact, it was waving slightly, at least to him, and he giggled at the sight. What the hell had they put him on? It was awesome! "Dale, we gotta get our hands on this shit! We'll make gazillions!" Nobody answered him. "Dale?" Oh. Dale wasn't there, he was still by himself. He wondered if Dale was worried about him, and had his ear all better. He'd looked worried when he'd last seen him, before everything went black. Maybe he was still here? Waiting for him to get better. Maybe he had a present for him! That'd be cool, as long as it was something good, Saul decided, rolling gingerly onto his side.

"Mr. Denton?" the nurse, a young, pretty brunette gently tapped Dale on the shoulder. He jerked his head up, starling her by accident. "Yeah?" "You can go see your friend now. But try not to excite him; he's got to lay still." What, did they think he was going to take Saul out rock climbing and ball room dancing? He agreed and turned his back on her, walking down the hall and trying not to limp. The door hushed open and closed as he crept in.

"Saul? How ya feelin' man?" Saul was curled on his side, his back to Dale, the cheap hospital gown gaping open and showing the bandages wrapped around his spine. The thin blanket was bunched around his waist, giving him some modicum of modesty. An IV dripped steadily into his arm. "Saul?" A soft groan issued from the long haired brunette, and he rolled over stiffly, drawing his breath in a sharp hiss. "Dale?" His eyes crossed as he tried to focus blearily on him. "Dale! Whas up?" Obviously it was morphine in the IV bag, and Saul was enjoying the effects. "Nothing. You?" Dale pulled up a chair, the twin of those in the waiting room. "Man, I got a sponge bath! And look," Saul lifted up a small Styrofoam cup full of wiggling red cubes, "Jell-O cubes! The red kind! Hey, y'think you could see if I still got my legs?" _Oh yeah, definitely on morphine, coupled with the weed that's perpetually in his system…he's not feeling anything, _Dale thought, but lifted the sheet the slightest bit and affirmed that Saul still had both his legs.

"That's great, sponge bath and jell-o cubes," Dale helped himself to one of the cubes, trying to eat it without a spoon and nearly dropping it. "When're they going to let you out?" "Huh?" Saul looked up from spooning his dessert into his mouth, his expression more confused than usual. "When will they let you out of the hospital?" Dale asked again, speaking slowly and clearly, like he would to a two year old. "Oh. Umm…shit, I dunno. The nurse told me, and I don't remember," he laughed like it was the funniest thing ever to not remember something, until tears stood out in his eyes and he doubled over, clutching his ribs and spilling his jell-o in his lap. But that just made the burns hurt, despite the pain medication, and he lay back with a whimper. Dale winced in sympathy, and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Saul lay his cheek against his hand, sighing.

"Hey Dale?"

"Hmm?"

"Your place is pretty much trashed right?"

"Probably. Why?"

"And Red's wife is gonna be out of jail soon, so they'll be all busy and shit, y'know?"

Dale grimaced, really not wanting to think about Red's sex life, even if they were friends now. "Yeah? What about it?" "You wanna maybe, move into my place? Since yours is all trashed?" Saul rolled his eyes up to look at Dale. "You got room?" "Somewhere," Saul moaned. "Damn, I think the meds're wearing off. It hurts everywhere." His eyes squeezed shut as he rode out another tremor of pain.

_They must have like sonar, or mind reading power or something,_ Dale thought as a nurse came in right away. She switched out the IV bags, and he watched as Saul relaxed one muscle at a time, and the dopey grin slid back onto his face. The nurse smiled shyly at them both, her eyes flicking to his hand on Saul's shoulder, and Saul's cheek on his hand, practically nuzzling him. She backed out of the room. Dale frowned after her, "What the hell was with her?" "She gave me my sponge bath," Saul mumbled, his lips moving against the back of Dale's hand. "Take it you and her chatted?" Saul struggled to sit up, and grinned at Dale. "Way to sound totally jealous Dale." Dale raised an eye brow, "Rrriiiight."

"You're jealous. But you don't gotta be jealous, or go all crazy defendin' my honor. _You're_ my BFFF," Saul threw his arms awkwardly around Dale's neck, hugging him. Dale was jerked over the bed, cold metal bed frame digging into his ribs. "Saul, get off me!" Saul snored in response, the morphine and other pain meds wrapping him in a warm fuzzy blanket and pulling him under. He snuggled against Dale, who had to force himself not to shove the other man off him. Dale stretched out his leg, hooking an ankle around the leg to pull it closer so he would try and sit down and untangle himself. He had almost gotten it when Saul cracked open his eyes and blinked at him. "Dale?" "Just sitting down. Chill, I'm not going 'til they kick me out." "Damn right you're not," Saul said sleepily. He yawned wide enough that Dale could hear his jaw crack. He slid down the bed once more, letting out another soft whimper as the hospital gown rubbed against his back where the bandages didn't cover.

The plastic chair creaked ominously, but held as Dale sat back in it, sighing in relief. Saul had let go of his neck, but was still holding onto his arm. His hair fluttered in front of his face as he breathed, clean for once. He actually smelled good too, not like weed and slushies. Nor did he smell like the nasty cleaning products. The nurse had used something that was sweet, and musky, but not too flowery. It was nice, sort of, in a Bed, Bath, and Beyond way. Saul twitched in his sleep, obviously dreaming. He reminded Dale of a dog running while it slept, chasing dream squirrels or whatever. Saul tightened his grip on Dale's arm, and Dale smoothed his hand down Saul's hair, trying to calm him. Surprisingly, it worked, and Saul fell deeper asleep. After shifting around so he could be comfortable despite his arm nearly being wrenched from its socket, Dale leaned back in the chair and joined him.

The nurse, when she peeked in to check on Saul, let him stay there.

_A/N: so? What d'you think? Good? I know, it was on the fluffy and short side, but that's just how it works. Next chapter will be longer, promise._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Dale, Saul, Red and the rest all belong to, I believe, Judd Apatow. Who is not me. Unless of course he became teenage girl and didn't tell anyone, in which case, he could be me. I doubt it though._

Saul rolled down the window of the car they'd rented for the day and leaned down in the seat, hanging his feet out the window. It was really the only way he was comfortable and where his back wasn't in pain. Dale glanced at him as he drove, expression bemused. Saul hadn't stopped talking since he'd been discharged from the hospital, yet now he was silent. Though of course it could be the fact that he'd taken a pain pill, and it was wearing off, and he was becoming more lucid and hadn't quite caught up with himself.

"You hungry?" Dale asked. Saul tilted his head back, leaning partially on Dale to see him, and Dale couldn't help the grin that curled up his lips at finally getting a rise out of him. "Yeah, I guess so. Where?" "McDonalds, we'll go through the drive-thru, bring it back to your place." Dale had moved into Saul's apartment while he spent his last week in the hospital, grabbing what clothes he could and a few trinkets that weren't smashed.. "Our place. Can I get Mcnuggets?" "Sure man," Dale chuckled softly, turning his attention back to the road. Saul slid down in his seat as far as he could, arms crossed over his chest. He raised an eyebrow as Dale paid for their food. "Where'd you get money?"

"Found it," Dale answered cryptically. "Where?" "Here's your nuggets," Dale passed him his food. "Dale, c'mon, where'd ya get the cash?" A horror-struck look dawned on Saul's face. "You didn't sell my weed while I was in the hospital did you? Please tell me you didn't," he grabbed Dale's shirt sleeve, clutching it frantically. Dale bit his lip in an effort not to laugh. "No man, I wouldn't do that. It's Angie's. She left it rolled up in a sock in my underwear drawer. Figured finders-keepers right?" "Why didn't you just tell me?" Saul sighed with relief. "Had to get you to talk to me somehow," Dale answered. Saul frowned, brows knitting together. "You're an asshole," he chucked a French fry at Dale, who caught it and ate it, grinning at him.

Saul rolled his eyes, before cursing loudly. "Look out!" Dale swung his attention back to the road, and had to swerve hard to avoid careening into the other lane. "Don't do that again," Saul moaned, gripping the seat and Dale's arm as his back spasmed. "Didn't do it on purpose, besides, you threw the French fry at me," Dale retorted. "I'll throw my soda at you next time." "Doubt it." "Try me," Saul held his cheap paper cup threateningly. "You wouldn't," Dale glanced at him. The next instant found him coughing and sneezing as soda plastered his hair to his head and ice slithered down the back of his shirt. He looked wide eyed at Saul. "I can't believe you did that!" "Told ya I would," Saul said smugly. "But now you don't have a drink." "Oh…yeah. Can I share some of yours?" he gave Dale a crooked grin. "Sure," Dale sighed, squirming in his seat. Saul looked at him oddly. "Thanks to you, there's ice in my pants now. Fuckin' cold." Saul burst into laughter, doubled over until he turned red and couldn't breathe. "You're gonna get frostbite on your ass!" "It's your fault then, if my ass falls off from cold."

They stumbled upstairs into Saul's apartment, Dale trying to juggle the food and drink, Saul trying not to drop his keys, before squeezing through the door and shoving papers and other detritus off the coffee table to make room for the food. Dale stuck two straws in his soda, and put it between them while Saul dumped the nuggets, burger and fries onto the table, and helped himself. "When d'you think Red's gonna get out of the hospital?" Dale asked. Saul shrugged, and swallowed his mouthful of French fries. "Might not be for a while. I mean, he got shot like seven times, and he probably got all infected."

The pair lapsed into a companionable silence, broken only by chewing and the squeak of the straw in the plastic cover as they drank. "What are we gonna do now?" Dale finally asked. "I don't have a job, my car is dead, and your source is dead." "There's other sources around, somewhere I think. And you don't need a job," Saul said. "I don't?" "Nah, I got plenty of weed still to sell and keep food around. Unless you got a problem with eating nothing but fast food?" "No," Dale muttered, "But, what happens when you run out of weed to sell, and we become poor and we're evicted?" Saul looked thoughtful for a few moments, taking a swig of soda. "Could always sell ourselves for money." Dale choked on his burger, coughing until Saul thumped him on the back. "Are you serious? You want us to become prostitutes?!" "I was just kidding," Saul laughed. "C'mon, you don't think I'd really do that, do you?" "I don't think so. But it seems to be what most people do in that situation. Or make pornos…don't even think about it," Dale jabbed his finger into Saul's chest.

Once Saul assured Dale that he wouldn't even think about it, he went back to eating his lunch. It was an interesting notion though. There was probably people around who'd pay good money to see to dudes fuck, or at the very least make out. He spent enough time surfing the 'net to know that. Dale wouldn't know that, seeing as he never wanted to look up weird shit on the internet with him. Saul figured he should probably work on that. Plus, he wouldn't mind, not really. It was Dale after all, his BFFF.

Dale however, wasn't letting go of the idea that they had to do something. He'd meant what he'd said to Angie, about near death getting your priorities in order. He wanted to do more than work all day at some boring job. Originally, Angie was the answer to that, but now he had his best friend, and they could probably do whatever they wanted. In fact, it would be better that way, since they were still wanted for all sorts of shit, and the less they were around, the better. He told Saul as much, and Saul drifted into thought, since what Dale had said made sense. And, he was all for hanging out with him, anywhere really.

"Hey," he nudged Dale with his elbow. "We could like, go camping. That's something." Dale glanced at him. "In case you don't remember Saul, last time we were in the so called great outdoors, we didn't do so good. In fact, we got scared by nothing and ran into rocks and trees, and I smashed my phone. Why the hell would we want to go back?" "'Cause this time we'd have a tent and s'mores. Camping's fun when you do it right." "What, were you a boy scout or something?" "No, but I think I wanted to be. They get to sell cookies." "That's _girl_ scouts," Dale snorted. "Oh. Well, whatever, let's go camping if you want to do something," Saul got up on his knees, tugging on Dale's sleeve and pleading, pulling the puppy dog face.

Dale knew he should have said no. Something told him this whole camping adventure would end badly. But Saul was his best friend, and he was doing the puppy dog eyes. So he said sure. "Tent? Do you have one?" "I think I do actually. I'm pretty sure I saw one in my closet," Saul scrambled to his feet and slid down the hall in his socks to his room. "Of course you do. Why wouldn't you have a tent in your closet?" Dale muttered to himself. He leaned back into the couch, listening to Saul rummaging around his closet, swearing loudly as he did so. There was a great crash, and Saul yelped. "You need a hand?" "Please?" Dale pushed himself up, and walked into Saul's room. His friend was half buried under clothes, a partially deflated beach ball, a pipe, one torn up sneaker and a tent. He looked between the tiny closet and everything that had fallen out of it. "How did you fit all that in there?" "I'm really good at Tetris," Saul grinned sheepishly.

Together they freed Saul, gathered the tent, and put everything else back in the closet. Though Dale had to ram the door closed and thus bruised his shoulder. Saul got him ice wrapped in a dish towel, and helped him ice it. "All right, you got a tent. What about sleeping bags?" "Uh…those I don't have. But, I've got stuff to make s'mores." "Great, just great. We can eat, but we'll have to sleep on the rocks and twigs." "No we don't, Dale, do you always gotta see the negative side? We'll just bring a bunch of blankets and pillows to sleep on. And we'll get stoned and make s'mores." _Yeah, great combination. Weed and fire. Why didn't I think of that?_ Dale thought. But he left it alone, as Saul was getting into the idea, and it kept him happy. All he asked was when they were going, where they were going, and how they were going to get there. To which Saul answered," Soon, not sure, Red's other car."

Red didn't mind them borrowing his other car a few days later; he was just upset he couldn't go with them. (Not too upset, as his wife was out of jail in just one week now.) But he handed over the keys, and asked them to save him a s'more. Of course, he was still up on painkillers at the time, so they knew not to take him too seriously. There was no way they would be allowed to bring him in a s'more; the nurse hadn't been too keen on letting them in just to get his keys. Saul took them, and led Dale back to Red's house. They peeked inside, and grimaced at the chaos and dried blood everywhere. "Maybe we should clean up for him when we get back," Saul suggested. "Sure. When's that going to be exactly?" "Whenever," Saul opened up the car, and helped Dale load the tent into the trunk, with the cooler full of beer and soda, and the plastic bags of snack food.

"What'd you bring for weed anyway?" Dale asked, sliding into the driver's seat. Saul pawed through the small green duffle bag he carried his stash in, checking the bags, "Uhh, Blue Oyster, African Kush, Snicklefritz, Super Red Espresso Snowflake, and of course, Pineapple Express." "You've still got some of that?" "Hells yeah. Stashed it away, been keeping it," Saul held up the baggie. "We'll save it for when we get there." Dale spared him a glance as he drove. "Don't you think maybe we shouldn't smoke it?" he asked worriedly. Saul stared at him, clutching the small bag to his chest. "How could you even think that? That's like…blasphemous or something." "Saul, Jesus, look at what happened just 'cause of that shit. You want to risk that happening again?" "It _won't_ happen again dude. Ted's dead. You saw him. What's the worst that could happen? Besides, this is the weed that made us BFFFs. It's like, our anniversary weed." Dale rolled his eyes, but let it be. Saul wanted to smoke it, and tempt fate again, fine by him. But…maybe he'd have some with him, just to make sure nothing happened to Saul. And for their anniversary's sake.

Saul gave sporadic directions, telling Dale when to go left or right, or when to bang a U-turn, he didn't feel like going that way anymore. "Saul, are we lost?" "How should I know? You're driving," Saul looked at him with one eye open. He'd been dozing, feet up on the dash, arms folded behind his head. The scars along his back stretched and ached, but didn't crack. Dale had thrown a first aid kit in the car just in case, even though it was gross when he had to dress his wounds. His back was a mass of mottled pinkish white scars, and high up on his left shoulder were little indents in a neat, uniform row, from where Angie had stabbed him with a fork.

"You're the one giving the directions. Where the hell are we?" "Chill Dale. I know where we are," Saul leaned out the window, scanning as Dale drove. They'd left civilization a few miles back, and now trees bordered them on one side, fields on the other. "Take a left," he waved his hand lazily in that direction. "But-'' "Trust me." Dale turned left, onto a dusty trail barely wide enough for the car. Trees closed overhead in a canopy, blocking most of the sunlight but for where it shone through the branches, dappling the ground. "Did you know this was here?" he asked, astonished. Saul smirked, but didn't answer out loud. "You fuckin' sneak, you knew!" "I really didn't, but you thought I did, didn't you?" Dale reached over and cuffed him in the back of the head. Saul smacked his hand away, "You're a bitch." "Takes one to know one." "Yeah, but _you're_ _my_ bitch. The Pinky to my Brain. The…" "Scooby to your Shaggy?" "Exactly!" Saul nodded enthusiastically. See, only Dale would have gotten that, the perfect metaphor for them.

Dale drove down the trail until it forked, and Saul decided on the right turn. Which was wise, considering the other was blocked by a fallen tree. Dale had seriously thought Saul was going to pick it for a minute, until he was proven wrong. The path lead to what was once a popular camping site, as evidenced by the scorched marks from years of fire pits, and circles of rocks. "Do you know how to assemble the tent?" "Yes I know how to 'assemble the tent'. I bought it didn't I?" "And stuffed it in the closet." "Shut up Dale. Why don't you like…get the cooler out. I can set up the tent." "Fine, fine, if you think you can do it. But don't come crying to me when you're tent comes crashing down on you." "On us, unless you wanna sleep out here." "I just might, with you in charge of putting up our shelter." Saul flipped off Dale's back, and strode into the middle of the site, dumping out the bag of the tent contents. He picked up the corner of what he assumed was the body of the tent, and a thin metal pole. Dale watched him, grinning smugly. Saul stuck his tongue out at him, and went back to the construction. It was just like Tinker toys really, not a problem. Wasn't he the one who wanted to be an engineer?

"Ha! Told you I could do it! Suck on that bitch!" Saul pointed to the tent, which was actually completely put together. Dale stepped away from the tree he'd been leaning on, watching Saul put the tent up. It was funny, but it was like it wasn't Saul. Or it was a different side of Saul, one that wasn't stoned, and could step back and think analytically. "All right, sorry, so you could do it. But if it comes crashing down, and I suffocate to death, I'm coming back and haunting the fuck out of you." "I can live with that," Saul said, beaming. He unzipped the flap and crawled into the tent. It wasn't big, just the one room. But it was enough for both of them. Dale set the cooler by the entrance, and stepped inside. Saul was throwing the pillows and blankets on the floor, so they had something to sleep on.

"It smells like moth balls in here," he said, sitting cross legged across from Saul. "I can fix that," Saul leaned over and pulled his duffle bag into his lap. "What d'you want?" "Surprise me," Dale lay back, pillowing his head on his arms. He kicked off his shoes, nudging them to the side out of the way while Saul rolled him a joint. He lit it up and took a drag before passing it to Dale, who blew smoke rings into the air. "How do you do that?" "I dunno. Natural talent I guess," Dale answered, watching the hazy grey rings floating around their heads and fade away. Saul motioned for him to hand the joint over, and tried to blow smoke rings of his own. He only succeeded in coughing until he couldn't breathe, and Dale had to rescue the joint from his fingers, lest he drop it and it go out.

"What's in this anyway?" "Thought you wanted to be surprised?" Saul's voice was rough from his coughing fit, but he managed to grin at Dale. "I did. But this is different," Dale twirled the joint, which was almost gone by now. "It's a bit of everything but the Pineapple Express. I'm saving that for a real special occasion," Saul chucked his bag into the corner and curled up on his side, clutching a pillow. Dale didn't bother asking what special occasion he was saving it for. It was rare; they shouldn't be smoking it all at once.

"Want to have s'mores?" "We've only been here an hour tops. And you're ready to eat already?" "What else're we gonna do? Come on," Saul whined, "help me get a fire going." "But it's hot out," Dale sprawled on his back, daring Saul to make him move. "Fire's not going to help that." "You can't make s'mores without a fire Dale." "What is with you and s'mores? You've been going on about them since you thought of this camping thing." "There the greatest snack ever. And totally necessary for camping. If you're not going to have s'mores when you go camping, you shouldn't even go at all." (_Someone_ had definitely had too much of their special mix of weed and pain killers. The only way to get him to shut up would be to go along with him.) Groaning, Dale rolled onto his stomach, and pushed himself to his feet. "Fine, I'll help you make the damned s'mores."

Dale watched Saul eat his s'more, his own forgotten on the rock next to him. It was like porn. He had marshmallow and chocolate smeared thickly around his lips, and his eyes were half closed, head thrown back blissfully. "Christ Saul, I feel like I need a shower and a smoke just from watching that," he laughed nervously. Saul opened one glazed over eye, and looked at him. "You're just jealous." "Yeah, I totally wish I was that mess," Dale snorted. Saul licked his fingers, and Dale swallowed thickly, like trying to eat a rock, and picked up his own snack, nibbling on it moodily. "You've got white shit all over your face." "It happens man. 'Specially when you got too big of a mouthful," Saul waggled his eyebrows. The effect was lost on Dale, who was intent on finishing his s'more before it melted in the summer heat. He sighed, but let it go. The snack not being wasted was pretty important after all.

The pair lounged by the fire pit the rest of the day, relighting the fire for a small dinner of burgers and chips. Saul made himself more s'mores as the night wore on, and they shared four joints, each one a slightly different mix. Dale caught fireflies in an empty bottle and was going to use it as a nightlight until Saul forced him to let the bugs go. "It's your fault if I gotta piss in the middle of the night and trip on you," was all he said as he let them fly free. "Try not to crush me," Saul answered. "Or _I'll_ be haunting the fuck outta _you_." They stayed up well into the night, only dragging themselves into the tent when Saul almost fell asleep too close to the fire, and Dale had a sudden vision of his hair catching fire.

Surprisingly the blankets and pillows did their job, and served as a good mattress in the tent. Saul stripped off his t-shirt and burrowed under a pale blue fleece blanket until just his hair showed. Dale was more careful, folding his t-shirt and jeans, and falling down in his boxers to sleep. "Night Dale." "G'night," Dale answered, voice muffled by a pillow. "Don't let the bed bugs, or ticks, or mosquitoes, or fleas, or-'' "Saul, shut the hell up before I smother you with this pillow." Saul mimed zipping his lips and fell asleep, followed shortly by Dale, to the sound of crickets and the fire burning itself out.

_A/N: so? Was it good? I'm trying to stay in character as best I can. Oh, and next chapter is when things get interesting, just as a heads up._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: however much I may wish I owned them, Saul and Dale belong to Judd Apatow. I'm just borrowing them on a temporary basis with no money involved. _

Had he been awake and capable of conscious thought, Dale would have vowed to never let Saul mix weed for him again. He was plagued all night with very good, but _very_ fucked dreams. Someone, he couldn't see who, showed him a very good time. They looked up at him, and he got a flash of brown hair before jerking awake.

Weak sunlight filtered through the screen atop the tent, filling it with soft morning light. Dale looked around blearily, trying to figure out where the hell he was, and why he was so hot. The tent, the camping trip, right. Ok, that was a start. He'd forgotten for a moment that he'd let Saul con him into sleeping outside with nothing but a nylon shelter to protect from the bears, rain, or whatever else might aim to cause him harm. Which gave him the answer to his second question.

Saul was plastered to his chest, snuggled as tight as he could get. He'd pulled Dale's arm over himself, and was using it as a pillow. Dale vaguely remembered waking up in the middle of the night to take a piss, and seen Saul was shivering. The temperature had dropped enough to matter once the sun had set, and he was freezing without a shirt on. On his way out, Dale had pulled one of the blankets over him, and curled up closer to him once he lay back down. Shared body heat and all that.

"Dale…" "Saul?" Dale propped himself on one arm and stared down at Saul. He was smiling softly, still asleep. He ground back against Dale, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know exactly what he was dreaming of. "S-Saul? You're just fuckin' around, right?" Dale cursed how god damned hoarse and breathy he sounded. But he couldn't help it. Most of the blood in his body had decided that Saul's ass fit perfectly just there…and had taken a trip south of the border. The rest of the blood agreed, but thought it best to stay up in his head and make sure he kept breathing. He bucked without thinking into Saul, who responded with a groan, and wriggled into him again. Dale bit his lip, his arms tightening around Saul. He forgot about the burn scars though, and how tender they were. Saul woke up suddenly, yelping in pain.

Dale found himself nose to nose with Saul as he rolled over. "Uh…morning Saul," he stammered, feeling heat pooling in his cheeks, and knowing he was probably blushing. "Morning. You think you could let me go a little bit? You're killing my back." Dale pulled his arms back, but didn't move, and Saul turned onto his stomach, turning his head so he could look at him. His back was raw, and was this close to looking like he'd been attacked by a cheese grater or something. "You had your pain meds?" "Nope. They're in the car." "Wait here," Dale got to his feet and pulled a t-shirt on. "'Cause I'm totally gonna get up like this," Saul glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Dale kicked him in the ass while he stepped over him and out the tent towards the car. He grabbed the small bottle of pain pills and the first aid kit, seeing as he was going to have to bandage Saul up.

The nylon hissed under Saul's hands as he gripped at the floor of the tent. Dale had pushed the blankets away so he could get at Saul's back, and formed almost a nest around them. He'd started to rub the aloe lotion the doc had given him into his shoulders, trying to be careful. But Saul still twitched under his hand. "Willya lay still?" Dale asked, exasperated past his limit. "It's cold and it hurts!" Saul's voice took on a whiny quality, and he dropped his head forward onto the floor. "It'll hurt worse if I just slap some band-aids on it and left it." "Didn't even get a sponge bath and a lollypop," Saul grumbled into his arms. "Quit being such a whiny bitch," Dale ripped open the bandages and started to layer them on. He smoothed them over his back, his fingers brushing over Saul's ribs, tickling. "Done." "'Bout time. Could you help me up? Don't wanna be lying here all day." Dale offered him a hand up, and let him lean on him out to the fire pit. Saul slumped against him while he attempted to make fire.

Once the flame was crackling, and had a steady diet of twigs and grass and newspapers, Dale speared two marshmallows and torched them. "I can make my own s'more y'know," Saul mumbled, scratching his head. "I know. But since you're not getting a sponge bath from me, the least I can do is make your breakfast," Dale finished making the snack, and passed it to him. "What does a guy have to do to get a sponge bath? I mean, I can't wait 'til I get old, and got all these people taking care of me." "I can wait. I don't wanna be wearing diapers and shitting myself and everything. That's just sick." "But, you don't have to worry 'bout it. There's nurses who get paid to change you. You're denying them of their money," Saul grinned at him. "No thanks. I'd rather be like, frozen."

They kept on talking about the pros and cons of being old and how they wanted to be taken care of once they died, eating another three s'mores each. Saul continued to use Dale as a pillow, acting as though nothing had occurred in the early hours. So was Dale. For a while anyway.

"You wanna talk?" Dale dropped his last s'more, fumbling to catch it but having to watch as it bit the dust. "About what?" he asked. "Dale, I might be stoned still, and on painkillers, but I'm not like, totally stupid. I just wasn't gonna say anything. But you look all…twitchy almost" "How'd you know anyway?" "BFFF telepathy. I can read your mind, and sometimes Red's." Dale believed it, not just because he too was still slightly stoned, but because there was no other way to explain it. "Ok. Makes sense I guess," Dale mumbled. "Yup." "It's really not a big deal, is it? Doesn't change a lot. " "Nothing but the sleeping arrangements," Saul licked his fingers free of marshmallow goo and cracker crumbs. He thought he'd have to do all the talkin' and pointing out his what he imagined to be obvious attraction. Dale could be pretty oblivious sometimes.

"It totally makes sense. I mean, I live in your apartment." "_Our_ apartment," Saul corrected, "we got our own ass grooves worn into our couch. We hang out all the time." "That's true. We're like-'' "Like the old married couple that is still together, but doesn't have sex anymore 'cause they're old," Saul interrupted, and frowned at Dale. "Why don't we have sex anymore?" "Old people can't have sex Saul." "They totally can. That's what Viagra's for." "First of all, ew, thanks for that visual. Old people sex. Second of all, you can't not have what you've never had in the first place." "Yes you…wait…what?" "If we've never had sex in the first place, we can't be not having it anymore. Duh." "Ohhh. Right," Saul nodded, his hair brushing against Dale's cheek and tickling his nose. It was back to its usual slightly greasy texture, smelling like weed and, and their apartment, and general Saul-ness.

"We could fix that," Saul said, amping the tension level, sending it up from maybe one to eleven. "Oh yeah?" Dale tried to sound laid back about it, except his voice cracked terribly, and he could feel Saul grinning against his neck. Saul licked his dry lips, his tongue brushing against Dale's skin, making his pulse jump. He tried to climb onto Dale's lap, but stopped mid-motion, mouth set in a firm line against crying out in pain. "Need a hand?" "No, I can do it," he inched closer, and what had seconds before been a potentially hot moment, dissolved into Dale watching Saul struggle and try not to bend his back. "You should have some more of your meds man," he said, supporting Saul with hands on his waist. "Nuh-uh," Saul shook his head, his hair whipping around his face.

"Why the hell not?" "'Cause I'll be so wasted on them," Saul slumped into Dale, his back relaxing. "And?" "And I don't wanna be." "Whatever man," Dale ran his fingers through Saul's hair, not caring that it was desperately in need of a shampoo and conditioning. Saul let out a sigh, his breath hot on Dale's neck, and leaned back, looking at him. "What?" "Nothin'," Saul smiled softly, shaking his hair back. "Like I believe that," Dale said, but his tone was teasing, laughing. "You wanna meet me halfway?" "Duh," Saul nodded, laying his arms lazily around Dale's neck. They kissed, and it wasn't like in the movies, with romantic music and sparkles raining around them. It was sloppy, and more than a little sticky, and the first thing Dale could say when they pulled apart and he could breathe again was that Saul tasted like marshmallow and graham crackers.

"Saul, maybe we should go in the tent?" Dale asked. "Why?" "What if like, a deer or something walks into camp? I don't wanna be screwing in front of Bambi." "Good point, he's got problems already, having his mom get shot. Doesn't need to be seeing live porn when he's so little." Dale chose not to point out that Bambi had grown by the end of the movie, and instead focused on getting them both into the tent. He slid one hand under Saul's ass, and with the other tried to push himself to his feet. "Dude, you gotta hang on better, I can't move," he told him through gritted teeth. Saul pulled himself up, wrapping his legs around Dale's waist, and unintentionally grinding their erections together. Dale's legs wobbled, and he almost said screw Bambi, that damn deer can afford therapy, and fucked Saul on the dirt. But that probably wouldn't help his back any, and he didn't want him getting an infection or something. So he struggled to walk the few steps to the tent, and not fall on his ass.

Unfortunately, the zipper was closed. Dale vaguely remembered Saul saying something about doing it to keep bugs out. "Damn it!" "What?" Saul tried to twist around, but stopped, slouching over Dale's shoulder. "You closed the fuckin' zipper. I can't get in and hold you at the same time." "You want me to get down?" Dale sighed heavily, "You have to." Saul slid to his feet, pulling up his pajama pants, which had slipped down a bit. Dale jerked the zipper up and around the frame of the door, and the flap slid into the tent. "After you," he grinned, making a sweeping motion inwards with his hand. Saul backed in; grabbed Dale's t-shirt and tugged him in after him. But Dale wasn't prepared for that, and they both tripped and fell onto the pillows and blankets, Saul crushed under Dale.

"Jesus-fuck! Dale, my back!" Saul pushed at Dale's shoulders, trying to move him. "Well I'm sorry! You're the one that pulled me in here." Dale struggled to brace himself on his arms so Saul could move. "You want me to roll over?" he asked. Saul nodded, grimacing. Dale rolled to the side, struggling to pull Saul after him. "This is almost like way too much effort," Saul sighed, his breath warm against Dale's face as he lay there. "I know. You're still burned half to hell; it's hot in this tent…" Dale pushed his sweat slicked curls from his face, then moved Saul's back behind his ears so it was out of both their faces.

"But," Saul prompted. "But," Dale grinned, "I don't care. About the heat anyway. I mean, yeah, I care that you got scorched." "You saved me though." "I thought you'd died." "I did too. But then I didn't," Saul said, sitting up and straddling Dale. "I was this close to giving you mouth to mouth," Dale admitted. "Yeah?" "Well I couldn't let you die right there in front of me," he protested, fidgeting under Saul's smirk. "Would you have done the same for Red?" "…Probably. We are friends now, but," Dale made a face. "Kissing him would feel weird." "Kissing me doesn't?" Saul pecked Dale on the lips. "Not really," Dale pulled him back down to deepen the kiss, lazily licking at his lips, slipping past them.

Saul tried to talk, but found, much to his surprise, he couldn't talk with his mouth full of Dale's tongue. Dale lay back, almost glaring at him. "What?" "I was trying to say that I'm glad it's not weird. That's all." "That couldn't wait?" Saul shook his head, hair sliding back in front of his face and forcing him to push it back once more. "Ok, no more talking then," Dale said. "Got it," Saul agreed, leaning towards him once more. He gripped the hem of Dale's shirt, rolling it up until Dale had to arch his back to help him. "Ow, ow, ow, watch the ear," Dale grumbled, ghosting his fingertips over what was left of his shot off ear. "Sorry," Saul pressed a light kiss just above the ruined ear, moving downward until his lips rested against the pulse in Dale's neck, which sped up, beating just under his skin like something thrown in a cage. He was pretty content to stay there, except for the fact that he was hot, and so was Dale, and they were both still wearing flannel-ish pajama pants.

"W-what are you doing?" Dale's voice cracked and rose an octave as he watched, practically paralyzed, as Saul struggled to jerk his pants off without moving too much. "Trying…trying to take off my pj pants, except I don't want to move," Saul panted, pausing in his efforts for a moment, giving Dale a decent view of the length of his back, the ridge of his spine, and the smooth skin just below the burns. "Right, that would probably help, huh?" Dale sat up, bringing Saul with him and taking care that his back wasn't stretched more than necessary. Within a few minutes, two pairs of pants lay thrown together in the corner of the tent, one striped in faded shades of red, the other a medium shade of grey with a broken drawstring. Saul looked through lowered lashes at Dale, head to the side, obviously asking a question without actually saying anything, testing the BFFF telepathy. Either it worked, or Dale knew him better than he thought, because he grinned, pressing their foreheads together.

He watched in his peripheral vision as Saul spit in his hand, one line trailing from his palm to his lips, breaking as he moved his hand lower, and Dale drew in a breath as it gripped his cock. He slid his hand from base to tip, building from a slow, steady, almost tentative pace, then faster as his confidence grew and Dale bit his lip and tried to thrust his hips in time. "Saul, I don't think…" Dale trailed off, trying to catch his breath. "Duh man, you're not supposed to think," Saul answered, voice holding a faint teasing quality. He gave one last tug before pulling his hand away, up Dale's arms to clasp his shoulders, and lifted himself up so he loomed over Dale. He wasn't entirely sure how, but he knew it was going to hurt, nor did he know how much it would. But… it was going to be worth it. He could tell that much as he lowered himself onto Dale.

Saul hissed, eyes clenched shut and fingers digging into Dale's shoulders until his knuckles were white. "Saul? You…y-you ok?" Dale asked, having to stop and clear his throat before he could make himself heard. "Fuckin' hurts," Saul groaned, opening his eyes a crack. "You want me to-'' "No! I mean, I got it, hang on. Just…gimme a sec," he breathed slowly, getting used to the feeling. It wasn't bad now, but it had sent pain lancing up his back at the first. "Better?" Dale asked hoarsely, trying to stay coherent with Saul clenching around him. Saul grinned crookedly at him, and nodded. He rolled his hips, pulling almost off Dale, right to the tip, then back down harder.

Bright lights burst in front of his eyes, and in an instant the pain melted away, replaced by a warm, almost…fuzzy feeling. "D-do that again," Dale gasped, flopping back to the floor and bringing Saul with him. Saul met his eyes, and saw they were unfocused and half closed. He bucked once more; meeting Dale's thrusts, fighting against the tight grip at his waist. "Dale, let…go," he lightly smacked at Dale's hands until he moved them and he could adjust himself, bracing his arms on either side of Dale. The warm pressure started to grow with each thrust, and Saul's arms shook with the effort to hold himself up. His breath was warm, almost hot against the side of Dale's face and neck. A jumbled chain of "oh god!", "Yes!" and "Dale!" "S-Saul!" intermingled and rose in volume, making Dale at least thankful that they were in the middle of nowhere and didn't have to worry about other campers. Each thrust grew more erratic and frantic, both of them teetering on the edge, about to fall head over heels over it into who knows where. But…at least they were falling together.

Saul stretched up, back arching and nails clawing along Dale's ribs, mouth open in a wordless yell. Dale arced off the improvised bed of blankets, hands digging into Saul's thighs as he climaxed. Saul dropped bonelessly onto Dale, not caring for the sticky mess both of them were. Dale moved his hands onto Saul's back, but pulled them away, cringing at the slight red tinge they bore. He craned his head up, and saw that Saul's back had reopened and bled through the bandages. He also had finger shaped bruises on his legs, but those were faint. "Saul?" A long, drawn out groan answered him. "Get up man, I gotta fix your back again," Dale tried to lift Saul off him. He slid to the side, and Dale hissed, noticing for the first time the red, slightly bleeding welts on his ribs. He shook his head at Saul, sitting up and dragging him onto the blankets.

They stayed quiet while Dale washed the blood off Saul's back with a shirt dampened with an ice cube from the cooler. But it was a nice quiet, pretty peaceful as far as things went. Saul was grinning like a fool over his shoulder at Dale, who finally noticed. "What?" he asked, but there was no real bite to it. "You." "Me what?" Dale looked positively bewildered. "We just fucked for the first time, and you immediately go about takin' care of me," Saul brushed his hair from his face. "You want me to just let you bleed?" Dale started to put the band-aids back. "No stupid. It's nice. I like you taking care of me," he burrowed his head between his arms, mumbling something. Dale only got "put the 'BF' in BFFF." He stopped to think about that. "Best Fuckin' Friends…Oh!" Saul's shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh out loud at what he imagined Dale's face looked like.

"Real clever Saul," Dale lay on his side next to Saul, who looked at him over his arms. "I know right? I'm pretty smart." "Sometimes." "Sometime? All the time." "Right," Dale said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Shut up. I am smart. I went to high school." "Oh yeah? Well so did I. Did you graduate?" Saul lifted his head up, his brows drawn together in thought. "Don't tell me you don't remember," Dale laughed slightly. "I remember. I did. Back before I really started dealin'," Saul nodded. "Did you?" "Graduate? Yeah. Wasn't a big deal. Just high school right?" "Right." Dale shifted onto his back, squinting into the sunlight from the top of the tent. It came to his attention that he pretty much knew nothing at all about the guy laying next to him, his best friend who he happened to have just fucked. He was tempted to ask, but when he opened his mouth, nothing really came out. He frowned, trying to think of something to say.

"So…like, how long?" "How long what?" Saul mumbled, obviously almost asleep. "How long've you wanted to…what'd you say? 'Dip your pen in my ink'?" "Think it was you mostly dippin' your pen in my ink homes," Saul snorted. "Details," Dale waved them off. "I dunno…a while I guess. It was after you started buying from me," Saul counted off days. "I hope so. It'd be creepy if you wanted me before you even knew me. I'd think you were stalking me or some shit." Saul smirked, "What makes you think I wasn't?" They laughed, and as it tapered off, Dale glanced at him. "You weren't, were you?" "I'm gonna catch some Z's." "Saul, were you?" All he got in response was clearly exaggerated snoring. "You didn't," Dale said only half sure, his own eyes sliding shut. He dimly heard Saul mutter, "Nah, I wouldn't. Too much effort."

When he woke up, dusk had gathered, and the temperature cooled. Everything was outlined softly in the tent, including Saul, who was half in shadow, rolling a joint. "Hey," he greeted him. Saul nodded, and ran his tongue along the paper. Dale watched half interested, though it was something to see. Saul was an expert at it, had it down to an art form, something almost…sensual. He held it between his lips while he fumbled for the lighter hidden among the pillows. Dale reached out blindly and clicked on the lantern, flooding the tent. "Thanks," Saul found the lighter, and lit the joint, his face illuminated for a moment in the spare orange glow. His cheeks hollowed as he drew in a breath, letting it out to dissipate through the top of the tent. Dale snatched it from his fingers, taking a drag and blowing perfect smoke rings.

"Pineapple express?" "Yeah," Saul answered, his voice still scratchy from coughing. "Let me guess, special occasion was today?" Dale grinned at him. "You'd guess right," Saul stretched his arms above his head, his back popping in protest. Dale took in another drag, holding in the smoke and pulling Saul closer simultaneously. He pressed their lips together, shot-gunning the smoke to him. He'd tried once with Angie to no effect. In fact, once she'd stopped coughing, she'd smacked him in the arm and told him never again. Saul however, was totally agreeable; when he let out the smoke, he blew a perfect smoke ring.

_A/N: And so I leave you with that cute image. I tried to keep it sweet and awkward and yet hot all at the same time, and I want to think I succeeded. Anyways, I have a completely random question, my lovely readers. What do you think about Saul and Dale getting a pet? I have a vague idea about it, and I just want to know what you all think. Pineapple express and Dale and Saul plushies for reviewers^^_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Whoo! Four chapters! I'm on fire. And here, I introduce an original…character sort of. You'll understand if you read my note at the end of the last chapter. Oh, and mucho thanks to all my super nice reviewers 3 _

Saul leaned his chair back as far as it would go, swung his legs out the window, and waited for Dale to finish packing. The car jerked with the force of the trunk slamming shut, and seconds later Dale was sliding into the driver's seat. "Ready to hit the road?" "Yeah, I miss my two TVs. But the whole pissing on a tree is pretty cool," Saul grinned, sleepily rubbing at his eyes. It was still so early, the sun had barely risen.

"You can go back to sleep if you want man, you don't have to stay up," Dale said, starting the car. "But then what's gonna keep you awake and not crashing into things?" Saul asked, but slid around so his back was leaning partially on Dale's arm. He had healed in the week and a half they'd been camping; so much that he was claiming it was all the sex. "We could sell it," he insisted. "Sell sex? Saul what did I say about making pornos?" "What the hell're you talking about? I don't mean pornos." "How else are we going to sell our so called 'magic sex'?" "…Shut up." "Sorry I'm right," Dale snickered. "Would you make a porno with me though?" "If we were desperately strapped for cash, then yeah, I'd _think_ about it," he conceded. "Don't worry about the camera either, Red could do it." "That makes me feel so much better," Dale muttered under his breath. Saul went on without hearing him. "He wouldn't even do that whole night vision thing like in that heiress chick's."

Dale let him ramble on about making dirty films, and having Red as director, a thought that made him shudder internally. No way he'd be able to have sex with anyone in front of Red. It would just be too weird. As he turned out onto the road, he eventually noticed Saul had stopped talking, and drifted off to sleep once more, drooling onto Dale's arm. Yet, despite the drool, he felt a little bubble of plain and simple happiness glancing down at him sleeping there. Because that right there was his…well, he supposed boyfriend would be an appropriate word. It was more than a friends with benefits type of deal, because in his mind, that implied there'd be other people. And there wouldn't be. At least, he didn't think there would be. No, Saul wouldn't do that, nor would he. This whole fresh new relationship, it was like...like having the munchies, and seeing your cabinets stocked with everything you could ever want to eat. That's how good it felt. He wanted to start laughing just because, but that would wake Saul, and he deserved some rest.

Sleep burned at Dale's eyes as he drove, making him blink and yawn and wish they'd slept in. Plus, he didn't know exactly how to get back to their apartment. Fortunately, Saul didn't sleep long, and woke up before he got too lost. "Take…take a left here," Saul yawned, pointing at the upcoming road. Dale did so, not paying too much attention. He was pretty much asleep, craving a cup of coffee or a red bull or something. Something dashed in front of the car, and he slammed on the brakes, setting the tires squealing and Saul almost head first into the dashboard.

"What the hell?" Saul choked and coughed, clutching his throat where the seatbelt had dug into it. "Something ran in front of the car," Dale unbuckled and opened the door. "What?" "I don't know, that's why I said some_thing," _Dale whispered. He crept around the front of the car, and didn't see anything immediately. But he heard soft growling, and the tall grass on the side of the road rustled. He stepped a little closer, pushed aside the grass, and gasped.

"Saul, c'mere," he called over his shoulder. Saul scrambled out of the car and came up cautiously behind him. "What?" he peered over his shoulder. Dale pushed the grass out of the way, and Saul's eyes widened. "It's a puppy!" And indeed it was a puppy, a German Sheppard, mostly black with a stripe of tan down his back, a patch on his chest, and on the tips of his ears. He cowered, growling slightly, but it was obvious he didn't want to fight. He was dirty and skinny, and held his right front paw close to him as though it hurt. And he had no collar. "Do you think he's someone's?" Saul asked. "Doesn't look like it. I mean, he just ran out in front of me, doesn't have a collar," Dale watched as Saul ran back to the car, grabbed a graham cracker from the box and ran back, crouch down and holding it out to the puppy. Watching them warily, the pup sniffed and snapped the cracker from his hand, munching it down quickly, tail wagging. Saul beamed, holding his hand out for the dog to sniff. He glanced up at Dale.

"Oh no, you're not thinking…" "Dale, can we keep him?" "You are," Dale covered his face with his hand. "Please? He needs a good home," Saul begged. "Fine, there's no point arguing. But only if you can get him in the car." Saul got to his feet, planted a kiss on Dale for letting him bring home the dog, and got another cracker. He used it to lure the pup to the car, and after a moment's hesitation the dog followed and jumped up with him, awkwardly settling down around his wounded paw. Dale had to admit, the dog was cute, and Saul was so fuckin' happy about having a pet it was worth it.

"What're you gonna name him?" Dale asked. Saul scratched the pup on the head, tilting his head to the side and looking thoughtfully at him. "I'm thinking Lou," he finally said. "Lou?" "Yeah, I like Lou. Louie. You like it?" he asked the dog. Of course the dog didn't answer, but he went on almost like he had. "So, to the vet then?" Dale sighed. "Duh, he's gotta have his paw fixed up, and get clean, and make sure he's all…like, healthy and shit. And then get him some kibble, and bring him home." "Can you get us to the vet?" "Pretty sure," Saul frowned, trying to remember. "Just get us back to where we live, and we'll go from there." "I can do that."

Miraculously, they managed to get back in the general vicinity of their apartment, and after some driving around in circles, managed to find the vet's office. Saul carried Lou in, and a half hour later carried him out, clean, with a perfect bill of health other than a bit under nourished, and with a bandaged paw. Dale drove then to the convenience store to pick up kibble and a bowl, trying not to gag as Saul cooed at the puppy, a sight he never thought to see, and one he wished he could erase from his memory. Saul was smothering the dog with love, and he hardly paid any attention to Dale. Not like he had while they'd been camping.

Lou looked curiously at him while Saul was inside. "What?" Dale asked. Lou whined, tail thumping against the seat. "Stop looking at me," he snapped. Dumb mutt was moving in like he owned the place. Lou whimpered once more, nudging his arm with his nose. Dale ignored him and flicked on the radio, leaving it on the channel it was on instead of trying to find talk radio. Saul didn't like talk radio, and he didn't feel like arguing over it. However, the song that came from the speakers made him cringe. Taylor Swift, "Love Story." He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Lou perking up, flinging back his head and howling along with the song. He couldn't help it; he laughed.

Saul came out of the store, bag of dog chow in his arm, and stopped at the sight in front of him. Dale and Lou singing along to something on the radio, both very off key. He opened the door, settling into the seat. "What'd I miss?" "Me and your mutt bonding for a minute," Dale grinned at him. "Oh yeah? What were you jealous or something?" Saul smirked. "Yeah, I was jealous of a dog," Dale snorted, starting up the car. Saul didn't say anything, just leaned back in his seat, Lou on his lap. He ripped open the bag of kibble, and Lou shoved his head into the hole, chowing down. "Poor boy," Saul stroked down his back. "You were pretty hungry, huh?" Dale, the hilarity of Lou the singing wonder pup wearing off, couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the display. Unfortunately, Saul saw. And smirked deviously. He moved he bag of kibble into the back seat, and Lou followed, paying them no mind.

"Saul?" Dale made a vain attempt to divide his attention between his car mate and driving. He failed, and driving took precedent. So he couldn't really see what Saul was up to. But he heard the squeak of the seat as it swung back into its upright position. "What're you doing? Look, I gotta drive so whatever you're trying to do; maybe you should w-w-wait…" Dale's warning trailed off into a groan as Saul sidled over proceeded to give him one hell of a hickey, his hand sliding down Dale's ribs to play along the waist band of his jeans. Jeans which got uncomfortably tight within seconds. "S-Saul, you g-gotta stop. If I crash…that's it, you, m-m-me, damn it…you tore the button off my favorite jeans…" Dale fumbled and stuttered for anything to say to get Saul to just _stop_ and let him park and then they could race up into the apartment, lock the door, and have at it. "Lou! He'll get hurt too if I crash!" That actually made him pause, and Dale, who a moment before had been totally *not* jealous of the dog, honestly, was now praising it.

"I don't wanna crash," Saul said slowly, "going back to the hospital would suck." "Exactly," Dale nodded, and though his brain was telling him that was a very good idea, other bits didn't quite agree. Other bits were _really_ into the idea of Saul's hands down his jeans. He could always pull over. But no…no, the universe saw fit to have brain win over dick this one fuckin' time, and force him to gently push Saul into his own seat, and feel guilty for making him sulk. But Jesus H Christ, he couldn't recall Saul being so hot and horny before, it was almost, _almost_ hard to keep up. Though now that he thought about it, it could be that now that he had an outlet, namely Dale, he was making up for lost time, and he had said he'd been jonesing after Dale for a little bit now. So now that he had an all access V.I.P pass to him, he was going to use it to every advantage.

Tires squealed as Dale swung into the parking lot in back of the apartment building and parked perfectly within the faded paint lines. Lou let out a nervous bark, having tumbled across the seats with the hasty entrance. Dale didn't even scold him for spilling kibble. Instead he waited, impatiently leaning on the roof of the car while Saul gathered the dog in his arms, struggling to keep him from squirming. "Lou, c'mon, be a good boy," he muttered, getting one arm under Lou's hind end, the other at his back, with his front paws and head dangling over his shoulder. "Are you even allowed pets?" Dale asked. "Dunno, don't care. We're keeping him," Saul staggered up the stairs, adamant and daring any landlord to come down on him about keeping a dog, not paying attention to the broken lock on the front door. How could anyone say no to Lou's mournful face?

Dale followed Saul up the steps, finding himself eye to eye with said mournful face. Which, truth be told, wasn't so mournful at the moment. In fact, Lou's tongue was lolling out, and he licked Dale's face. Saul glanced around at him spitting out dog drool, and laughed. "You just frenched the dog," he grinned down at Dale. "He came onto me," Dale scowled. "Well duh, he's my dog, he's doing what I'm thinking," Saul answered, his grin widening into a smirk, and winking over his shoulder at Dale. Just then, Lou, being still a puppy and not yet house trained, pissed on Saul's shirt. "So…you're thinking of licking my face and then pissing on yourself," Dale quipped, "not my idea of a good time, but whatever gets you off man."

After fumbling for the keys and shoving his way inside, Saul let Lou slide to the floor, and dug around for some newspapers. "Here, ok? You piss here, or outside. Not on me, or him, or the carpet," he said, pointing at the paper. "I'm sure he understands," Dale sighed, kicking off his shoes and slouching onto the couch. "He does," Saul insisted, stripping off his damp shirt. "Saul, he's kinda cute and all, but he's just a dog. And you smell like piss." As if on cue, Lou lifted his leg and wet the newspaper. Saul turned a smug look on Dale. "Just a dog…" he shook his head at such an asinine assumption. Dale frowned, deciding then and there that his mission was to wipe that smug look off his face.

The couch shuddered and squeaked as Dale reached over, snatched the waistband of Saul's pajama pants, and hauled him over the back of the couch. He landed heavily on him, with his chin resting on Dale's chest. "What was that for?" Dale shrugged, and winced as Saul rolled over and snuggled down so Dale's legs were on either side of him, and pulled his arms around him. "Comfortable?" Dale asked sardonically. "Yeah actually. Dude, you're like a Snuggie," Saul sighed happily, eyes closing. "A what exactly?" "A Snuggie. One of those blanket with sleeve things," "That does great things for my sense of manliness Saul." "Sorry, but you're really comfortable to sleep on." "Better than being called a teddy bear. That's all I ever got from chicks. 'Oh you're just like a cuddly bear!' and next thing I know, they're calling me Winnie the Pooh or some shit." "I promise not to call you that," Saul grinned. "No, you'll just call me some fuckin' blanket with sleeves. If I didn't love eating so much I'd fuckin' go on a diet," Dale said dejectedly. Saul tilted his head back, turning and placing a light kiss on Dale's jaw line, the only place he could reach without moving. He wasn't particularly good at expressing himself, so he figured this was the best way to make Dale feel better.

Dale actually smiled, which was good. Saul tried to turn back onto his stomach with the intent of kissing him, except for Lou chose that moment to bound onto the couch, slobbering on them both, tail wagging ferociously. "Damn it! Lou, off the couch!" Dale ordered. "Dale, don't yell at him, he's just a pup," Saul pulled the dog onto his lap, scratching behind his ears. "He's only been here a few hours and you're already siding with him! Fine, you can stay here with the mutt, I'm going out," Dale snapped, grabbing the car keys and leaving. He got into the car before he started to feel guilty. Only a little bit though. Seriously. It wasn't like he was going to go up and apologize to the dog.

He opened the door, climbed out of the car, and locked it once more.

He could apologize to Saul though. And maybe just try to accept Lou, for Saul. It wasn't really his fault. Saul was right, he was just a pup. A baby really. And didn't know any better, or that he'd interrupted something important. Dale walked up to the door, and realized he didn't have the keys; he'd have to buzz in, and deal with Saul.

Saul had curled up on the couch alone once Dale walked out, and Lou crouched in front of him, nose to nose, whimpering and trying to be comforting. Saul absently pet him on the head, sighing heavily. Why didn't Dale like Lou? He hadn't done anything…at least, he didn't think so. He had been paying a lot of attention to Lou since they'd brought him in, but he'd never had a pet and it was cool. Lou was a good dog. But maybe, just maybe, Dale was jealous. If he could get so insecure about his weight from the 'Snuggie' comment, which was meant to be sort of a compliment, then what was to stop him getting jealous of a puppy?

Lou yelped and jumped onto the couch as the buzzer went off, tail between his legs and ears down. Saul laughed, ruffling his ears, and got to his feet, shuffling over to the speaker box. "Who is it?" "Saul? It's…um…it's me?" "Me?" "No, me." "But I'm up here. You can't be me." "Saul, it's Dale, quit dicking around." "Dale? Thought you left?" "I was gonna…but…" he trailed off, mumbling something Saul couldn't understand. "What? Dale, can't hear you," he said. "Can you let me in please? I feel like an idiot talking to you through this thing." "Why should I?" "C'mon man. Please?" Dale was starting to sound desperate. "I dunno, lemme ask Lou," Saul let go of the button, grinning down at the dog, who looked curiously at him. "You think we should let him in?" Lou whined, one ear cocked up. "Dale? You still there?" "Yeah," Dale answered grudgingly. "Lou says ok, but you gotta apologize for yelling at him." "Saul! Really?" "You want back up here?" "I want back in," Dale sighed heavily. "Then apologize to Lou." "You're an ass," Dale growled, gritting his teeth and not believing that he was apologizing to a dog. "I'm…sorry I yelled at you Lou." "Good enough. C'mon up," Saul let him in, and slumped back onto the couch, Lou at his feet.

Dale peered around the door, prepared for Saul to be pissed at him, to sic Lou at him, anything but for him to slowly wave him over to the couch. "Saul, I'm sorry-'' he started, but Saul cut him off. "Don't worry 'bout it Dale. 'S cool." "But-'' Saul shook his head, "No. Me an' Lou are fine. Just let it go, 'kay?" Dale nodded, and, surprising Saul, patted his lap so Lou could jump up. "Sorry to you too Lou," he said, scratching the dog's neck. Lou slobbered all over his hand, tail thumping against the couch. "He's not so bad, I told you," Saul said, scooting back to lean against the arm of the couch. Dale shrugged, and Lou jumped over the back of the couch to sniff around the new home he found himself in. They heard something clatter to the floor and Lou barking in fright and scampering away, but Saul hardly flinched. He just kept looking at Dale, head slightly to the side and hair hanging around his face.

"Can I help you or something?" "Hm?" "Quit leering at me Saul, it's creeping me out," Dale pushed his hair back from his face. "Oh yeah?" Saul crawled forward, closer to Dale. "Still creepin' you out?" "Honestly, a little bit. The whole crawling thing, I wasn't expecting it," Dale admitted. "You looked sorta like you were trying for that whole seductive jungle cat crawl thing, but dude, you can't do it. It just looks funny in pajama pants on a couch." Saul scowled, not too pleased with being laughed at. True he wasn't really trying to do the seductive crawl, he just wanted to get closer to Dale, but that didn't mean he wanted to be made fun of. His gaze fell on the top of Dale's jeans, which were gaping open the tiniest bit with the button fly missing. The laughter died in Dale's throat as Saul pushed him back against the arm of the couch.

"Saul what the hell are you doing?" "Something…" Saul mumbled. "Yeah but what?" Dale looked down at Saul, who was grabbing the waist of his jeans. Instead of answering, Saul asked if he could move up a bit, so he could tug down the jeans a little more. Without thinking, Dale did, watching as his jeans were balled up and thrown over the back of the couch, his underwear following and realization dawning. "Oh…oh god," he stammered as Saul took him in his hand. "Not exactly, but I can do a pretty good impersonation of Jesus for ya later," Saul chuckled, and lowered his head, taking the tip of Dale's cock into his lips.

After being discharged from the hospital straight into his wife's waiting arms, Red hadn't left the house much. He and Jessica had been getting reacquainted, making up for lost time. Now though, after a week had passed, Red felt it high time he pay his best friends a visit, to make up for abandoning them in favor of carnal pleasure.

The downstairs door was propped open with a chipped and pitted brick, the lock having been broken a few nights previous and not yet fixed. Red slipped inside and up the stairs to Saul's apartment, which was locked tight. But of course he knew where Saul kept the spare key, and stretched up to snag it from the top of the door. Any greeting he had died on his lips as he took in the sight before him.

Dale was stretched back over the arm of the couch, face flushed and sweaty; eyes scrunched tightly shut and his breath panting. It was an expression Red recognized; Dale was quite obviously getting a blow job. His only question besides from who, was if Saul knew he the dirty deeds his roomie was getting up to on his couch. He couldn't see who it was, but they were brunette and apparently very good at what they were doing. Dale shuddered, still unaware of Red, his grip in the other person's hair tightening. He stretched up; his back arching at what looked like a really painful angle as Red watched, unsure what to do. What felt like an eternity stretched on until Dale slumped back onto the couch, wheezing and laughing breathlessly as the other person sat up, swiping the back of their hand across their mouth. Red's eyes widened.

"Saul?!"

"Oh shit…"

Dale's face burned as he retrieved his underwear and jeans from the floor behind the couch and he struggled into them. Saul smirked at him, lounging on his side of the couch and completely chilled out. He thought it was pretty hilarious, once he'd gotten over the initial shock that not only had Red pretty much burst in, he'd burst in as he was giving Dale a blow job. "So I guess that takes care of the whole telling you thing, huh?" Dale shot him a look, but he shrugged. "What?" Red still hadn't said anything, just sat in the dilapidated arm chair diagonal from them. Frankly, it was making Dale a bit anxious.

"Did I really just see what I thought I just saw?" he finally said. "Totally depends on what you thought you saw Red," Saul answered, eyes lighting up as he saw Lou bounding down the hall to see the new arrival. "I thought I just saw you giving Dale a blow job, but I could be stoned and seeing things," Red glanced down at the dog that was sniffing his foot. "Dunno if you're stoned or not, but you did see that. You care?" Saul asked. "Not really. Should I?" "Don't think so," Dale muttered. "Whatever. You two do whatever you want. I came over to see how you guys were doing since I haven't seen you once since I got outta the hospital," Red said. "Doing _real_ good," Saul nodded. "So I saw. I was gonna yell at you Denton, for doing that on his couch while he was out." "Then you saw it was him," Dale grinned. "Pretty much. It's ok then."

They eased back into the companionable state they had all attained prior to hospitalization. Saul scooted across the couch to prop himself against Dale while Red grilled them about what it was like "doing another dude," for curiosity's sake. Saul answered mostly, until Dale finally had to interrupt. "Christ Red, him and me have only had sex like…five times? Yeah. Give us a break." "Sorry dude. Just wondering. I got my wife back, so it's like sort of game over. I can't go crazy without asking, not unless I want her to kick my ass." "She'd do that?" "She toughened up in prison. It's hot and scary at the same time. She could totally kill me if she wanted to," Red got a glazed look in his eyes, as if he were reliving his past week with his wife. Dale looked sideways, meeting Saul's gaze. Red snapped out of it after a second, and turned back to the pair on the couch. "One more question," he started. "Just the one?" Dale said. The sarcasm was lost on Red. "Was it when you were camping?" Saul nodded, "he was like, molesting me in my sleep." "Me?!" Dale stammered. "It was totally you! You started it in your sleep! You woke me up." "Yeah, but you kept it up," Saul tilted his head back to look at him.

"Oooh, trouble in paradise already," Red leaned back in his chair, grinning widely and watching he display with interest. Dale glared at him, clearly telling him to butt the hell out. Red held up his hands in surrender, but still watched. "This is nothin'," Saul waved his hand, brushing it off. "Just today, before you showed, he almost left 'cause of the dog," he reached out for Lou, who jumped onto his lap. "When did you get a dog anyway?" "Today. His name's Lou, and we nearly hit him. He was abandoned. Dale was jealous." "Was not!" Saul raised his eyebrows at that. "I wasn't it," Dale muttered. "Keep tellin' yourself that." "I will."

The trio spent the day together, lounging on the couch or chair, watching reruns of old sitcoms and slowly making a dent in what was left of Saul's stash. Red left around midnight, muttering about how his wife was likely going to be pissed he hadn't called, and for them to say nice things about him at his funeral. Neither Dale or Saul answered, as the former was out cold, stretched along the length of the couch, and the latter was curling up on top of him. Saul pillowed his head on one arm, the other draped over Dale and dangling over the edge of the couch, and kept their legs intertwined. Just before he fell asleep, Dale slung one arm over Saul's back, holding him protectively.

_A/N: Finally. It's taken me forever to get this chapter done. I've been going back and fixing, retyping…and I'm still not sure I'm completely satisfied. But I've decided to get over it, and post, because if I don't stop going over it, it'll never get posted. And that would suck. I need to stop being such a harsh critic on myself. Anyways, comments? Reviews? _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: as I've said before, many thanks for my lovely reviews. Glad I can make you laugh, though I doubt you'll be pleased with me in the following chapters, including this one, where I throw in a good dash of drama. It can't all be laughs and fluff all the time. At least not for me, so without further ado, here's chapter five_.

The bedroom was quiet, that quiet that comes between midnight and dawn, when no one is awake, the cars still sit in driveways and the world narrows down to the shush of the air conditioner, and the soft, even breathing of the person next to you.

A storm had blown in the day before, the melding of thunder and lightning scaring Lou so that he hardly left Dale and Saul alone, pressing up against their legs and whimpering. He flinched at every roll of thunder, eventually crawling on his belly under the bed and refusing to come out. Not even Saul cajoling him with a box of Snausages lured him out. The storm had calmed down come nightfall, with only the occasional fork of lightning or rumble of thunder. By the time Dale and Saul dragged themselves to bed, Lou was timidly wriggling out from under the bed, jumping up, and lying down at their feet.

The air conditioning kept the rooms cool enough that neither of them was bothered by Saul wrapping Dale around himself while they slept. It was what they'd gotten used to, the one using the other almost like a blanket, and the only way they both got a good night sleep. Or an early morning nap right after breakfast or a mid-afternoon cat nap sprawled out on the couch with sitcoms on one TV and cartoons on the other.

Lou lifted his head, ears trained on the sound that had disturbed him. It wasn't Masters sleeping, or the big noises outside, it was sharp and direct. He sniffed, and didn't like the impression he got of the person outside his home. A low growl trickled from between his teeth, and he let out a single bark. "Shut up Lou," Dale muttered, barely waking. Lou whined and barked again, louder this time. "Saul, make your dog shut the hell up." "Lou, shu'up," Saul grumbled, chucking a pillow in the general direction of the dog. He flopped back onto the bed, asleep once more.

Lou went quiet for a little bit, until he heard the knocking again at the door. He stood up, barking incessantly now. Cursing, Dale sat up; fumbling for the glasses he sometimes wore. He shoved them onto his face and got out of bed, grabbing Lou by the collar that Saul had bought him. (Saul had ended up buying two collars actually, as he claimed Lou wouldn't accept the collar unless he wore one too. It now hung on a hook by the door.) Lou protested to being hauled off the bed and into the hall. However, once out there, Dale heard the knocking at the door. "Just a minute," he called, shoving Lou out of the way. Dale hit the light switch and went for the door, jerking it open. He stared wide eyed at the person standing there in the hall, her hair and clothes drenched, eyeliner cutting lines down her cheeks.

"Angie?" "Hi Dale," she said hesitantly, smiling crookedly. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Can I come in?" Dale narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but stepped aside and let her in, closing the door behind her. She immediately sat down on the couch, sniffling slightly. "How did you know where I was?" he sat down on the armchair, watching her. "I went to your place, found this address, figured it was worth a shot," Angie shrugged. "Ok, but again, why're you here?" Angie lowered her gaze, biting nervously at her lower lip. "Angie," Dale prompted. "Gimme a second!" she snapped. He arched an eyebrow, but let her be.

"I'm…I'm pregnant Dale," she finally said softly. "Ok…congrats, I guess, but what…oh no, you're not saying," he shook his head. "Oh yeah, I'm saying. It's yours. Congratulations," Angie said bitterly. "Are you fuckin' shitting me?! I mean, are you sure?" he stood, almost pacing in front of her. "Yes I'm sure." "Well what do you want me to do about it?" Dale demanded. "I think you owe me more than one Dale. Bringing drug dealers into my house, leading to my parents kicking me out, all this stems from you!" she jabbed her finger into his chest, hard. "You want me to help raise it or something?" "I think you should at least get a job, help support us." "You expect me to just get a job, because you drop outta nowhere claiming you're knocked up and it's mine?" Their voices got steadily louder until they were almost shouting at each other.

"Wha's with all the god damned yellin'?" Saul stumbled down the hall, rubbing his eyes with one hand, the other pushing his hair back. He'd pulled on an overlarge wife beater with his Star Wars under-roos, and looked blearily into the living room. "Dale? Who's 'at?" "Angie," Dale answered. "Your ex-girlfriend?" "Yeah. Sorry we woke you, go back to bed, m'kay?" "Sure. Nice 't meet ya," Saul waved sleepily and turned back down the hall. Lou had followed him, but sat down in the middle of the hall, positively glaring at Angie and growling softly. "Lou, go with Saul," Dale shooed him away. With a snort, Lou stalked stiff legged down the hall, his hackles raised and his tail held out straight behind him.

"Got them both well trained don't you Dale," Angie brought his attention back to herself. "Lou just doesn't like you, and Saul's exhausted, that's all," he said. "Oh is that it?" "That is it. So what do you want?" "I already told you," she crossed her arms, staring him down. Dale sighed. "You can stay here for the night, on the couch. We'll figure out if you stay here tomorrow." "Fine. And thanks," she shucked off her coat, took the blanket he offered her, and curled up on the couch. He turned on his heel and left without another word.

Saul was looking at him through half closed eyes when he crawled back into the smallish bed. "You look pissed man," he murmured. "I kinda am. I'll tell you in the morning," Dale stifled a yawn. Saul nodded, and pressed against Dale, burrowing his head in the crook of his shoulder. "G'night," he said. "Good night Saul," Dale slung an arm over Saul, holding him in place.

* * *

Come morning, once he was more coherent, Saul found him and Lou were of the same mind. Neither cared much for Angie showing up, or claiming that she was knocked up with Dale's kid and demanding he support her. Lou growled at her at every turn, his ears flat to his head, baring his teeth. Saul glared at her from where he sprawled on Dale's lap on the couch. Dale was trying very hard not to grin at the look on Saul's face and Angie's. Judging from the smug look on Saul's face, his train of thought was something like "Nyah Nyah, I got him and you don't. So there!" Angie just stared back, one eyebrow arched and arms crossed over her stomach, which he noticed now she didn't have her coat on, was starting to round out slightly.

"She can't stay," Saul finally said, squirming a bit so he could face Dale. "Oh no?" "Nope. House rules, no girls allowed," he nodded firmly. "What is this, your tree house fort?" Angie asked snidely. "Yeah, and you can't come in 'cause you're too fat." Dale gaped, before covering his laugh with a cough. How was it he always attached himself to the immature ones? Angie, who had a short temper without the added pregnancy hormones and shit, took exception. She was suddenly standing over them, seeming taller despite being maybe an inch shorter than Dale. "What was that?" she demanded. "I said," Saul started, "that you're too fat. You'd break the branches and wreck the tree house." "You wanna go, Obi-Wan?"

For a moment, Dale actually considered trying the "these are not the droids you're looking for" trick, but he doubted it would work for him. Instead, he squeezed Saul's shoulder, letting him know it was time to back off. Saul settled down again, making a show of how comfortable he and Dale were. Angie turned towards the chair, but not before slinging some disparaging comment over her shoulder. They didn't quite understand, but it was enough to prick Saul's pride and send him practically charging for her. Dale simply stood, dumping Saul onto his ass onto the floor, leaving him too startled to do anything.

"You two are gonna stop now, ok? Angie, I'm with Saul on this, you can't stay here. Lou doesn't like you and he's new, so his opinion matters," he said. "Uh-huh. So just 'cause the dog wants me out, you're gonna make me leave?" "Yup." "And it has nothing to do with the fact you two want to be all over each other without me around, right?" "Oh no, that's part of it," Saul said from the floor. Dale kicked him lightly. "Ow! What the hell?" "Shut up Saul, seriously." "Fine," Angie interrupted, "I'll leave. I'll find somewhere else. But I mean it Dale, you better fucking get a job, I won't raise this kid on my own." She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

"Come on, Obi-Wan," Dale held out his hand to Saul, pulling him to his feet. "Why's everybody going on 'bout my under-roos? So they're Star Wars, so what?" "That's the thing Saul, they're little kid underwear, with Star Wars on them." "I also got superhero ones," Saul grinned. "Of course you do," Dale rolled his eyes. "They're comfy though!" "Alright, alright, Jesus. Let's get some breakfast, ok?" Lou curled up in the corner of the kitchen while Dale and Saul moved about getting cereal and coffee. Once Dale was seated on the couch with a plate of Eggo waffles and a slightly chipped mug of coffee, Saul plopped down at his feet, wiggling so he was pressed between Dale's legs with his bowl of Count Chocula.

"So who d'you think woulda won?" "Who in what?" Dale leaned over him, looking puzzled. "Me or Angie? Who woulda won?" "Probably her." "What? Bull shit," Saul turned around as much as he could, hardly looking menacing with his spoon stuck in his mouth and marshmallow bits stuck on his lips. "You don't know man. She's harsh at the best of times, but throw in pregnant…I wouldn't fuck with her." "Isn't that how this all happened?" "Shut the hell up Obi." "Fuck you Anakin," Saul grinned. "Hell no, I'm not that whiny bitch. I'm god damn Qui-Gon if anything. Which makes you the Padawan. Suck on that," Dale said triumphantly, returning to his waffles. His waffles in which Saul's hair was currently trailing. "Shiiiiit."

* * *

"Ow! Ow! Fuckin' shit ow! Dale you're ripping out my hair!" "Stop squirming and it won't hurt so much," Dale snapped. He dragged the brush that he'd found in between the sofa cushions through Saul's hair, trying to work out the syrup caked snarls. "When was the last time you took a shower?" "How long ago was I in the hospital?" Dale dropped Saul's hair. "Gross!" "I'm kidding! Fuck. I think it was a couple days ago," Saul said, sounding as though he was really thinking about it. "That's still pretty bad Saul." "It's not like we go anywhere," Saul protested. "Doesn't matter," Dale muttered, continuing brushing Saul's hair. He looked around, spotting a bandana sticking out from under the couch. He folded it and tied it around Saul's head, effectively controlling his hair so it would hopefully not get in his breakfast any more.

"How'd you know how to do all that hair stuff anyway?" Saul asked, slurping the milk from his bowl. "Chicks like it when you brush their hair, at least the ones I dated did," Dale chucked the brush onto the chair. "Yeah? So, are you saying I'm like the chick?" "I would never insinuate something like that." Saul glanced behind him to see Dale trying to look innocent, gazing at the ceiling, even making an attempt at whistling non chalantly. He looked down at Saul, eyebrows raised as if to say "What?" He was saved by Lou loping in to see them now that Angie was gone. He crawled onto Saul's lap; tail wagging furiously as he begged to be petted. Saul couldn't hang onto his already dwindling aggravation with Dale in the face of Lou at his most cute; he gave in, pulling Lou into his arms and hugging him, scratching his ears. Lou yapped, pleased with the attention, and nuzzled against Saul's head, messing up his hair. Dale sighed, it was no use really.

* * *

"Saul, can you at least try to control Lou? I'm trying to read the paper, and I can't with him leaping up and stealing it." "Louie, c'mon, leave Dale alone boy," Saul pulled the dog away for the third time, setting a pile of dog treats in front of him in hopes of keeping him occupied. "Whatcha doing?" Dale took off his glasses before answering, rubbing his tired eyes. "Trying to find a job. It's not going so well. I think I'm gonna have to go to like, McDonalds or something," he slumped forward, burrowing his head in his arms. "Fuck! I'm going to be the shittiest dad." Saul set down the joint he'd been rolling and padded across the room to Dale. He leaned against his back, resting his head between his shoulders. "No you won't Dale. You're trying right? It's not like you asked for this, and Angie's just dumping all this shit on you, making you the one to take care of the kid. It's not fair, you shouldn't have to, but you are. I think that means you're the un-shittiest dad."

Slowly, by degrees, the tension flowed out of Dale, and he let Saul lead him to the couch for a spirit lifting joint. Lou snapped at the smoke rings, sneezing when they went up his nose. He didn't like them much, and trotted down the hall to nap on the bed. Meanwhile, Saul was pleased to see Dale cheering up marginally, sinking into the couch and snuffing out the butt of the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table. "This totally sucks," Saul wedged himself between Dale's legs, his back against Dale's chest. "What am I gonna do if you're working and watching a kid?" "You could get a job too. What happened to being a civil engineer?" Dale idly played with Saul's hair. "It's gonna happen dude. Don't worry about it. I was thinkin' about getting a car though. We can't always borrow Red's." "You have the money for a car?" "How many times I got to tell you, I've got money. Don't worry about it," Saul tilted his head back so he could look at Dale slightly. "I'd say you got enough to worry about right now."

Saul however, was still a bit upset. If Dale had to work, and probably help Angie with the kid, and hell, for all he knew Red was going to start a family of his own with his wife, where did that leave him? He had Lou, but…there was definitely things he did with Dale that he couldn't…no wouldn't, do with the dog. And Lou may've been a good dog, but he wasn't his best friend, didn't talk to him or smoke with him. A small frown appeared on his face, and he pulled Dale's arms tighter around himself, almost clinging. "You ok?" Dale leaned around to see him better. "Yeah, just sorta cold," he mumbled. "I can turn down the A/C if you want." "Or I can just do this," Saul twisted and pressed himself as close to Dale as he could, burrowing in between him and the couch. "You could do that. But your elbow is digging into my side," Dale winced. They moved around until they were comfortably wedged together, Lou leaping up and slobbering on them.

* * *

"You coming?" "No!" "Why not?" "I look stupid!" "Doubt it." "Saul, your opinion doesn't count much here, you think pretty much anything looks good on me." Saul glanced down at Lou, who was whining and pawing at his leg. "It's not my fault I do." After a few more minutes of cajoling and promising not to laugh, Dale trudged down the hall in his McDonalds uniform; khaki pants, short sleeve blue button up shirt and visor. "I can't believe I got the damned job. It sucks, my manager is some acne afflicted kid who's never gonna get laid and therefore is taking his rage out on me. And this uniform blows." "I like it. You look all…official. And cute," Saul decided. "You would," Dale sighed resignedly. "What're you going to do all day while I'm working?" Haven't decided yet. But me and Lou will think of something." "Just don't burn the house down or anything ok? I don't wanna be visiting you in the hospital again, watching you knocked out." "I'll try," Saul promised. He got to his feet as Dale made his way to the door, and tapped him on the shoulder. Dale turned and had his shirt gripped and jerked forward. Saul pressed their lips together, sliding his tongue along Dale's lower lip and nibbling before letting go.

Dale shook his head as if to clear it, trying to regain some measure of focus. His shirt had come undone, a few of the buttons nearly ripped off. "What the fuck?" "That was me saying goodbye before you go off to the work force. And bring home some dinner, kay?" "Dinner, sure. I'll see you when I get home," Dale still sounded a little off balance as he tried to button his shirt again and walk down the stairs without tripping. Saul chuckled as he closed the door to find Lou staring at him. "What should we do today Louie?" Lou whimpered and wagged his tail. "I was thinking we could clean up around here, and maybe get some food. You can come with me, we'll walk. That sound good?" The German Sheppard pup barked and capered around him."Ok, well, first, I got to take a shower."

Saul cleaned himself up, and then went from room to room, putting things back on shelves, straightening things, putting dirty clothes in a bag in the bedroom. He even vacuumed, though Lou didn't care much for that, and barked at the noisy machine when he wasn't backing away from it in fear. Once that was done, he went to see what there was in the kitchen. Most of the cabinets were bare, or close to it, and the fridge only had a single pudding cup and what might've once been cheese. "Damn it can't make anything with that," he muttered, sliding off the counter to the floor. Saul pulled on shoes and actual jeans and a t-shirt, brushing his still damp hair back and slipping the bandana around his head once more. He clipped a leash on to Lou's collar, made sure he had his wallet, and that it had money, and that he had his keys, before walking out and locking the door behind him.

Lou barked and howled pathetically when his leash was looped around a bike rack outside the convenience/ grocery store and Saul left him there. "I'll be right back. Hang on boy," Saul called over his shoulder, stepping inside the store. When he came out a short time later, one would have thought Lou had been left out there a millennia, the way he gamboled at Saul's heels. He jerked at the leash, nearly causing Saul to drop the brown paper bag he held in one arm. But he couldn't yell at the dog, he adored him, and he gave him some companionship when Dale was gone. So he let the pup run ahead as far as the leash would allow, and kept pace as best he could. He put away all he'd bought, and figuring he wanted to cheer Dale up, set about making a surprise for him.

* * *

"I'm going to smell like a fryalator for the rest of my life," Dale muttered miserably as he unlocked the door. He intended to spark up with Saul and relax the rest of the evening, and maybe vent a bit. What greeted him in the apartment changed his mind. Saul was in the kitchen. Not unusual in and of itself. But the fact that he was wearing jeans so old they'd softened and faded to almost white and a flour dusted apron over his bare chest made things…interesting to say the least. He was staring intently at a bowl of cookie dough, his hair held back by the bandana, flour and chocolate smeared on his shoulder, chest and face. He glanced around at the sound of Dale closing the door, and his face positively lit up. Seriously, like a pinball machine, or a Christmas tree, of the fourth of July. Dale almost stumbled back a bit, but instead chucked off his visor and started for him, only to have Saul lunge at him with a pleased "Dale!" clinging to him so he was suddenly supporting his weight.

"Saul, what're you doing?" "I was trying to make cookies, since I was bored and I figured we could both use some, but I can't figure out if they're missing something or not. I also kinda lost track of time," Saul answered sheepishly, planting a light kiss on Dale's lips. He pulled back, looking at him. "You smell like French fries." "Well you," Dale licked the smudge of chocolate that had somehow gotten to the crook of Saul's neck, "taste like cookies." "Wanna just eat the dough instead?" "That's supposedly really unhealthy. But…fuck it, lemme just change out of this, and I'll meet you on the couch with the bowl." Saul hit the ground and tossed the apron on the counter in the kitchen, clutching the bowl in one arm and holding his jeans up with the other. The couch voiced its protest at having him jump onto it, and was ignored. Dale joined him not too long after, feeling much better in his sweats and a t-shirt. Though he still smelled like French fries; not that Saul minded.

From then on, Saul and Dale had a fairly nice living arrangement. Red said it was like something out of _Leave it to Beaver_; Dale went out to work while Saul stayed home and cooked and went shopping and sold weed occasionally. They said he was just jealous. He asked if Saul cared that subsequently Dale had come to be the one wearing the pants, while he was wearing the apron. Saul answered that he didn't care, he and Dale were both pretty happy with the way things worked, and as long as Dale was basically content, so was he. They were too, except for one detail that wouldn't go away and seemed to get bigger all the time: Angie.

She stopped by frequently, taking Dale's time away from Saul. He already had less time due to work, but when she came by, Saul was lucky if he got an hour. She wanted to buy things for the baby, think of names, decide if Dale was going to actually get to see his kid or not. When she finally let him go, he was often too exhausted to do more than half-heartedly kiss Saul before collapsing on the couch, bed, or chair. And Saul would be left to rifle through the bag of McDonalds, eating the steadily cooling nuggets and fries by himself. Lou, attuned as he was to Saul, knew he was upset, and offered what comfort he could, laying his head on Saul's knee and licking his hand. He was beginning to suspect Angie was doing it on purpose, as some malicious way of getting back at him for everything that had transpired in the past.

* * *

The phone rang, waking Saul and making him stumble into the living room to answer it. "Hullo?" "Oh, it's you. Is Dale there?" "He's sleeping," Saul answered, managing to be harsh despite being still asleep practically. "So wake him up." "Why should I?" "Because I told you to, and I can make his life miserable for this, and you don't want that, do you." "You're a bitch," Saul growled sullenly. "Takes one to know one," Angie snapped back. "I'm not a bitch." "Oh I think you are. Now get Dale on the phone." Saul pulled his knees up to his chest, watching as Dale mumbled to Angie on the phone, hung up, and tug on some jeans. "Where you going?" "Gotta pick up some stuff for her. I'll be back, but don't wait up," Dale said over his shoulder, heading out the door. "But why? Can't she get it herself?" "Saul, I have to. It's my kid, I'm not gonna let them down. You're the one who said I'm not the shittiest dad. So I have to go out and do shit like this. I'll see you later."

The door closed with a snap, and locked, leaving Saul all by himself in the bed, staring at where Dale had been.

_A/N: so? Told you, drama. And it's not all that it seems either. Oh, and all that Star Wars business, that's what happens when you try to type and watch Phantom Menace at the same time. I'm a Star Wars geek, always have been. Anyway, new drama to deal with, I won't tell you all of it. I'd prefer to make it a surprise. Until next time my lovely readers. _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: so, for me at least, it's April vacation. And of course, what happens? I get sick. I've got a car, no school, and I'm stuck at home with my little sister. However, since I've got nothing better to do than watch TV and eat cough drops like they're candy, I may as well type. So, enjoy._

_P.S: my cold/allergy meds are making me mad drowsy, so there might be some grammar and spelling errors. If I catch them, I'll fix them, if not, well, I'm sorry._

Pulling a double shift on practically no sleep was bad enough. Pulling a double shift on practically no sleep and being forced to work the drive-thru…that truly sucked. Dale felt there was probably a lower ring of Hell where you were stuck forever with a pompous pimply faced manager in some fast food joint doing the graveyard shift and working the drive-thru.

_No one wants a McFlurry at 11 at night_, Dale thought. And whoever did could damn well make it themselves, he was tired and wanted to go home and see Saul. It had been a while, too long really, since he'd gotten to have a day of just him and Saul. Angie always needed something, and she wasn't above dragging him from his bed before the crack of dawn or showing up unexpectedly. He leaned against counter, perched precariously on his stool, and rested his chin in his cupped hand. No one would come through, he could catch some sleep, his manager would never know.

Static crackled in his ear, making his jump and almost fall off the stool. "Hullo? Welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?" The voice on the other end came through garbled and tinny, and but Dale distinctly heard something about McNuggets. _Who in their right mind wants McNuggets this late at night?_ Dale dumped the nuggets into the box, and went back to the window. He pulled it aside to reveal Saul leaning out the window of a car, grinning at him. "Well that explains it," Dale muttered. "Explains what?" "I thought no one in their right mind would want nuggets this late and you're the one wanting them." "Are you insinuating I'm not in my right mind?" Saul asked, taking his McNuggets and handing Dale the money. "You tell me, you're the one getting McDonalds at 11 at night in the Shaggin' Wagon," Dale retorted.

He hadn't believed it when Saul had shown up outside the apartment in the van a week ago. He'd been trying to catch some sleep, and Lou for once was behaving, sleeping at his feet. The car horn had sounded outside, making him drag his ass off the couch to peer through the slats out the window. Down in the parking lot had been a van painted a pale bluish green with a darker blue stripe down the sides. It looked like it was on its last legs. "He didn't…" Saul stuck his head out the window of the van, waving up at him. "He did." Saul's excuse was that it was the cheapest car the lot had, in good condition, and the dealer threw in a new mattress for the back for free.

"Can you come on break?" Saul asked. "Why?" "'Cause I'm _bored_ and _lonely_. And I've put sheets on the mattress in the back," Saul tugged on the cord of Dale's drive-thru head set. Dale, no matter how tired, was no match for Saul when he was trying his very best to get what he wanted. He just had to tilt his head to the side, look through his lashes, and pout, and Dale caved. And he knew that was all he had to do too. Unfortunately, just as Dale was about to say "park the van, I'll be right out," his manager walked in. "Denton! Flirt on your own time and get back to work. You're still on the clock for another half hour." "Yes sir," Dale said resentfully. To Saul he added, "I'll meet you out front." Saul grinned mischievously and continued on to the parking lot.

Dale tapped his foot, resisting the urge to look at the clock. It wouldn't make time go by faster, and he would only be disappointed when he saw that no time had passed. Finally, his shift was over, and he was free. Or so he thought. "Denton, you can't leave until you clean the tables and your station, and mop up." "But-'' "No buts. Just get it done." Cursing under his breath, Dale did as told, his manager gloating behind the counter. His back was aching and he was slightly dizzy from the cleaning chemicals by the time his manager declared he was done and able to leave. Sighing, Dale trudged out into the parking lot, going over to the van and knocking on the back door.

"Took you long enough," Saul hauled him into the back of the van. "Sorry," Dale yawned. "Manager made me clean right at the end of my shift. I had to mop, and clean all the tables." He leaned back into the feel off Saul rubbing his shoulders, his long slender hands expertly getting the knots out of them. "You still smell like French fries," he grinned against Dale's neck. "I feel all greasy, like I bathed in the fryalator," Dale mumbled. "We could always take a bath when we get home," Saul suggested, nipping along Dale's neck, making him groan. "There's no room in the tub for both of us," Dale leaned back against him. "Shower then?" Saul slid his hands over Dale's shoulders, down to play along the waist band of his pants. "You just wanna see me naked and soaking wet." "Maybe. I can at least have you naked now," Saul crawled around to straddle Dale, "can't I?"

All evidence of exhaustion left Dale as Saul fumbled at the tiny buttons on his employee shirt, pushing it away as he unbuttoned it. He himself was busy sliding down Saul's pants, but stopped at the sight of his underwear. "Saul?" "Mm? What?" "Why the hell are you wearing a banana hammock?" "I'm pretty sure it's called a thong Dale." "That doesn't tell me why you're wearing one." "Oh, well, I need to do laundry, and this was all I got left," Saul lightly snapped the waistband of the soft grey thong, which was surprisingly comfortable, being made of something similar to t-shirt material. "Why do you have it in the first place?" Dale asked, working very hard to maintain eye contact. Saul looked deep in thought for a few moments. "I'm pretty sure it was at Red's bachelor party. I _might've_ been…what's it…coerced? Into doing a show for the strippers. And they got me this to wear, and let me keep it 'cause I did such a good job." "You were stoned at the time, weren't you?" "I think so." "Was this the same time Red ate the lollypop-'' "No that was a whole different time. We have a lot of adventures with strippers." "Uh-huh."

Saul grinned, "Are you jealous Dale?" "No, of course not, you wanna run around with Red and strippers, it's fine, I don't own you." "You're jealous," Saul nuzzled Dale, who scowled. "You're jealous and it's over me. It's cute." He rose to his knees, wriggling out of his pants. As they slid lower and lower, Dale had to admit, if only to himself, that the sight of Saul straining against the front of the thong was making him hot. Maybe he'd buy him one for every day of the week. Saul snapped his fingers in front of his face, startling him. "Dude, you were practically drooling." "Nuh-uh," Dale swiped his hand across his mouth, proving he wasn't drooling. "You might as well have been. Y'know, I'm beginning to think you only want me for my body." "Yeah, I only want this," Dale slid his hand under Saul's shirt; skimming over his ribs and making him squirm.

"I knew it. But it's ok, 'cause I only want you for yours," Saul wrapped his arms around Dale's neck, pressing their foreheads together. "Good to know we're on the same page," Dale gripped the underside of Saul's thighs, pulling him closer. Except for Saul squirmed back, his hands dipping down to undo the fly of Dale's pants. "Doesn't work if you still got your pants on." Dale propped himself back on his elbows, letting out a tiny sigh as his pants were jerked down and his erection freed. Saul scooted back until their lengths brushed against each other, and he could hold Dale's wrist, drawing his index and middle fingers into his mouth. Dale's eyes fluttered shut as Saul sucked on his fingers, giving them one last lick before releasing them. Saul let go of Dale's hand, leaving the next move up to him.

Dale watched Saul's face, trying not to hurt him as he scissored his fingers, stretching him until Saul gripped his shoulders and told him he had better hurry up if he knew what was good for him. Next thing Saul knew, he was on his back on the mattress, his legs wrapped around Dale's waist. He pushed at Dale's shoulders, urging him to go faster. "God damn it Dale! I won't break, just fuck me!" Dale paused; looking down into Saul's flushed face, his hair spreading out on the mattress around him. "I know you won't break," he panted, propping himself above Saul. "I...did it ever occur to you," Dale started moving his hips, "that you're not the only one who's been lonely, and hating this job, and that maybe I wanna go slow 'cause I missed you?" "Oh! Ohhh," Saul groaned as Dale brushed against his prostrate. He clung to Dale, his back arching off the mattress.

He appreciated the gesture. He really did. But… "Dale, Dale, I've like, totally missed hanging out and stuff too, but," Saul bit his lip, his nails digging into Dale's shoulders. "But…fuck, can't we just spoon later or something? I don't wanna go slow." As if to emphasize his point, Saul jerked his hips forward, slamming himself down harder onto Dale. "Don't do that," Dale hissed. "Won't last if you do." "I don't care!" Whether it was Saul's tone, the look on his face, or his own barely contained lust, but he gave in. The mattress slid along the van, bumping softly against the metal side. Saul lifted off it; his face buried against Dale's neck, his muscles tensing for an achingly long time as they both came, clutching at each other.

Their breathing echoed harshly back at them as they lay twined together in the inconsistent dark. Saul pressed himself close to Dale's back, making soft contented sounds. Dale could feel Saul's heart thrumming against his back, its pace slowing to normal. He wanted to enjoy the peace, and fall asleep wrapping Saul around himself. However, he yet again had to be the grown up, and ruin it. Why he couldn't just turn off that part of his brain was beyond him. "Saul?" "Mmm? Wha'? Shit, I was almos' asleep," Saul groaned. "I know man, but, like we can't stay here." "Why not?" "Cops won't like a van just sitting here. They'll come knocking, whether the van's rocking or not." Saul scowled, but pushed himself up, haphazardly pulling on his pants and scrambling into the driver's seat. "You so owe me for making me get up," he said over his shoulder, struggling to put the car into drive. "I'll make it up to you," Dale leaned against his seat, reaching forward to help Saul put the car in gear.

As the headlights cut their path through the night, Dale was coming up with various ways he could make it up to Saul for waking him. "What about…road head?" Saul suggested. "Saul, I'm not going to blow you while you're driving." "Why not? You said you'd make it up to me," Saul whined. "You'll crash the van, that's why not. I don't feel like dying. Think about Lou." Saul did, he thought of poor Lou, scratching at the door, whimpering and waiting for them to come home. He sniffled, forcing that image away. Dale smirked, knowing Saul's kryptonite. So it wasn't always him, that was fine. "How about this, I'll give you a piggy-back ride into the apartment, and we can spoon on the couch, and enjoy the fact that I've got the day off now. I don't have to go to work until Sunday, and that's not a double. Just my regular shift." Saul positively beamed, his smile not fading the entire way home.

"When're you gonna get a job?" Dale asked, steeling himself for Saul climbing onto his back. "I was thinking about that," Saul rested his head on Dale's shoulder. "Oh?" "I was thinking of just growing my own weed, that way I won't run out, and can just sell that. That way, I don't have to worry about people like Ted Jones. And Red can get me started." Dale sighed; that's all Saul wanted to do. "What about, I don't know, say, a real job?" "You mean like yours, where you never get to see me, and come home late and greasy, and smelling like French fries?" "I thought you liked me smelling like French fries?" "I know you don't though. I know you hate your job, so if I can get my business going, I could like, support us both, and you could quit." Dale let it go; his intentions were good enough at least. Saul stretched up, unlocking the door and letting them in. Lou perked up, yapping a welcome. "Stay there Louie," Saul told him, knowing if he didn't, the over exuberant pup would charge at them and knock them down. As it was, Lou sat in front of the couch, his tail a black blur as it wagged back and forth. The minute Dale dumped Saul onto the couch, and then slumped down himself, Lou leapt onto them, slobbering.

"I think we're gonna have company," Saul chuckled, scratching at Lou's ears. "Yeah, me too. It's ok. This time," Dale pulled the pup more firmly onto his lap. Lou bayed softly, wriggling in so he was comfy, but neither Saul nor Dale was. "Hold on Lou," Dale moved the dog to the floor, scooted back to lean against the arm of the couch, and pulled Saul to him. Lou waited as patiently as a puppy could before leaping back onto them and nuzzling against Saul's chest, drooling happily as he fell asleep. "As long as he comfortable, right?" Dale asked, arching an eyebrow. "Right," Saul answered, yawning widely. "I'm pretty tired myself though." "Yeah. Another night on the couch won't kill us," Dale wrapped an arm around Saul, hugging him tighter. "We might as well…might as well move out here. Never sleep in the room anyway," Saul turned in and pressed close to Dale, his eyes drooping shut. Dale leaned his head against Saul's and soon all three were sleeping soundly.

The door banged sharply into the wall as it was flung open. "Dale!" Lou yelped and tumbled off the couch, his nails digging in to Saul and Dale. Angie glared down at them. "How the hell did you get in here?" Dale demanded. "And why the hell are you here?" Saul added. "I got in through with the spare key. I'm here because I can be." "But…no, you can't be here. It's early, and it's my apartment and I said no." Dale didn't mention that it was sort of _their_ apartment now; Saul was saying pretty much what he was thinking. "Too damn bad. Dale, I need you to pick up some things for me, and we need to talk about names for the baby," Angie stormed into the room, her stomach more prominent now.

Saul pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. Dale was being ushered into the bathroom, forced to shower and dress at damn near warp speed. Angie listed off all the things she needed him to pick up. Both of them paid no attention to Saul, who eventually sighed and went into lay down in his room. He was nearly asleep once more when he heard the door slam shut. Lou lifted his head, growling quietly. Saul smoothed his hand down the dog's neck where his hackles were raised. "What's the matter boy?" Lou whined, and jumped down from the bed, turning in anxious circles. Saul got up, pressing his ear to the door. Distantly, he could hear talking, and it wasn't Dale.

"Hey honey!" Angie practically sang into her phone. Saul gagged; she better not be calling Dale 'honey'. Only he could, if he wanted, and he didn't want to. That was just too…not _them_. He unconsciously rubbed at his shoulder, where he still bore a scar from her stabbing him with a fork. "Stay here Lou," he whispered, creeping into the hall and lurking in the shadows. Lou peeked around the door, whining with his tongue lolling out. Saul strained to listen to the conversation happening just a few feet away. "Yeah, he totally still buys it," Angie said, and he could hear the almost cruel sarcasm in her voice. "He's bought pretty much all we could need…he just rolled over and let me do this…no, his boyfriend doesn't like me, but Dale's got him under control. I can't believe _he_ believes it's his. The last time we had sex was so long ago, and it wasn't good enough to get me knocked up. No I don't feel guilty! He owes me, I told you all that happened because of him! All right. He'll be back soon. Love you too Clark." There was a snap as Angie shut her phone, and chuckled to herself.

Saul stared wide-eyed down the hall, unwilling to breathe or draw any attention to himself. The baby wasn't Dale's? It was some dude named Clark's? And what did she mean the sex hadn't been good enough to knock her up? Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised to find _he'd_ been knocked up! Some mornings he could hardly walk. But that was beside the point. The point was, Angie was playing Dale. She got him thinking that he was gonna be a dad, and was using that to get him to buy her stuff for the kid she was having with someone else. Oh Dale was not going to like that. Saul smirked deviously; he would take great pleasure in kicking Angie out on her fat pregnant ass. He made his way quietly back to the room he occasionally shared with Dale, where he would wait for him to get back so he could break the news.

Lou nosed Saul's elbow, waking him from the light doze he'd fallen into. Other Master was home, and while the bitch wasn't gone, Lou knew instinctively that Master liked to greet other Master at the door with lots of licking and pawing. If Master had a tail, he would wag it when he saw other Master. "Lou? What's the matter?" Saul sat up, one hand rubbing at his eye while the other pushed his unkempt hair back. Lou whined and looked at the door; Saul heard the tell-tale sound of paper bags crinkling as Dale moved about the kitchen, still not used to Saul's system of putting things away. Regrettably, he could also hear Angie blabbing away at him, and it made Saul's chest ache to think of how easily she fooled him. No one deserved that, least of all Dale. He shook his head, trying to focus so he when the right moment to tell him arose, he'd recognize it.

Dale looked up as Saul finally made an appearance, shuffling into the kitchen and helping himself to an apple juice box. "Where'd you go?" "Took a nap," Saul answered, giving Dale a look he couldn't decipher. "Didn't we just wake up?" "Yup." "But you took a nap?" "I was tired, and Angie's not exactly one for engaging convos," Saul said, not caring that she was in the next room over. She sent Saul a murderous glare behind his back, and Dale was surprised Saul wasn't struck down right then. "Staying Angie?" "Why would I want to?" she sneered. "Just trying to be nice. Bye then." "Don't let the door hit ya on the ass on the way out!" Saul hollered as she left. Without a backward glance, she flipped him off and shut the door."

"You should be careful dude. She wouldn't hesitate to kill you," Dale chuckled, grabbing a bag of potato chips. "I could take her," Saul grumbled. "Yeah, maybe." "Hey Dale?" Saul said after a while. "What's up?" "Can I…talk to you about something?" "Sure, I guess so." Dale watched as Saul let out a deep breath. He looked nervous almost, biting his lip and drumming his fingers along the table. "What's the matter Saul?" he asked, starting to worry. "It's not totally easy for me to say. Like, when you were gone, I was in the bedroom right? And…I heard Angie on the phone…" "And?" Dale urged. "She was talking to someone. A guy. A guy I think is the kid's real dad."

Saul watched Dale's face for his reaction, hoping for him to get angry at her for what she'd done. What he got was disbelief. "You must've heard wrong man. Angie told me a while back she loved me, that she hasn't been with anyone since me." "And you believed her?!" Saul yelped. "Well obviously. Look, you sure you're not a little jealous or something?" Dale smiled understandingly. Saul's eyes narrowed. "I'm not fucking jealous of her. I'm trying to help you. She's playing you Dale!" Dale arched an eyebrow, obviously not convinced. "Fine, forget it!" Saul stood, angrily tossing out his juice box. He stepped into his shoes and went for the door, only stopping to grab his keys. "Where are you going?" "Out. Don't wait up." The door slammed behind him, leaving Dale in shock and Lou whining for Saul to come back.

When he did come back, it was night time, and pitch black in the apartment. Dale had crashed on the couch in the living room, and barely stirred as Saul quietly stormed in. Without pausing to wake Dale or turn on the lights, he made his way to the bathroom. A thin strip of light showed around the door frame, and if one listened, one could hear a faint, whispering sound accompanied by slight grunts of almost pain. Dale started, jerking awake. "Saul?" He looked blearily to the light. "Saul!" No one answered, not even when he pounded on the door. "Saul is that you?" "What do you care?" Yeah, that was Saul, sounding sullen. "C'mon out, I was worried about you." "No." "Saul, please…Lou missed you too." Silence, and then the door cracked open. Saul looked around it, and for a moment Dale was blinded by the sudden light. When his vision cleared, he very nearly gasped. "Saul…what happened to your hair?"

It was shorter, much shorter. It hung to just below his ears now, chopped unevenly at the ends. "I got a job," Saul answered shortly. "I hope it's not at a hair salon," Dale started to grin, but stopped at the glare aimed his way. "No, it's a construction site. They're building a new community center. I'll be working there while it's being built." "What's that got to do with your hair?" "Well, the foreman didn't like my long hair, said he wouldn't have any 'hippies' or whatever on his job site. But he was impressed with what I could do, so he said if I cut my hair, I'd get the job," Saul crossed his arms defiantly. Dale gaped at him. "Thought this was what you wanted Dale. I got a job, finally. Just like you asked." With that, Saul turned on his heel and went to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

_A/N: And so concludes another chapter. By the time I finished typing this, it was June and two days away from graduation. That's what took me so long. Sorry about that. It's been mental, and this was the first chance I really had to finish. If anyone's still following, reviews and comments and the like are always appreciated. Mucho thanks_.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: I don't know for sure, but this may be the last chapter. Or the second to last. We'll find out. Either way, enjoy, review, etc. _

Life in the apartment Dale and Saul shared changed drastically over the course of a few months. No more was Saul the domestic god he had been, keeping the living place organized, cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner or baked goods in his apron with his hair tied back. Dale found himself greeted less and less with a sloppy kiss as he left for work in Angie's borrowed car. In place of shot gunning pineapple express, eating cookie dough on the couch and falling asleep in the recliner was uncomfortable silences, short sticky notes telling him what was for dinner and how to heat it up, and an empty bed both when he woke up and when he went to sleep. It was disheartening to say the least.

* * *

Saul perched on the steel girder, glumly eating his sandwich. The frame of the half constructed building was warm in the noon day sun, and he pulled off his yellow dented hard hat to swipe sweat from his brow and shake out his freshly cut hair. He'd finally conceded to getting it trimmed evenly instead of the shaggy, choppy mop it had been. He briefly looked up as the rest of the workers wolf-whistled at the attractive woman walking by, before returning to his lunch.

"Hey Saul," Leo, one of the higher up workers, threw himself onto the beam next to Saul. Leo was nice enough, if a little overly brash. "Y'see that broad there? Real looker huh?" he elbowed Saul and laughed, drawing curves in the air with his hands. Saul finished the last bite of his sandwich with a grimace, and nodded absently. "Didn't see her, but if you say so." Leo tilted back his hard hat, squinting hard at him. Saul made the rest of the men a little wary; he wasn't like them, hounding after the women that walked by, going out for drinks after work and generally joining the group. He kept to himself, kept quiet, kept out of trouble. Leo was the only one bold enough to make an attempt to get him to join in.

"What's up Saul? You gotta girl or something?" Leo slapped him on the back, nearly jolting him off the girder. "I have, well actually, I had someone. It hasn't been working out too well recently." "Time of the month?" Leo nodded sagely. "You could say that, except it seems like it's been going on for the past few months," Saul took a sip from his soda. "That's the case, it's time to move on man. No use hanging on being miserable." "Maybe," Saul muttered. He didn't mention that he was pretty sure he was completely in love with Dale, like totally gone on him, even if it was feeling a bit one sided as of late. "Well, hope it works out for ya Saul, but it's time ta get back ta work."

* * *

Dale wearily clocked out; dragging himself out to the rust bucket of a car he borrowed from Angie while Saul used the van. He tossed the bag of Big Macs and fries on the passenger seat, thinking that maybe Saul would be up, and just maybe he'd be hungry. Saul was half asleep on the couch when Dale got in, and looked up slightly at the sound of the door closing and locking.

"Oh hey," he mumbled, lazily rubbing his eyes. "I um, brought you some food," Dale held up the grease stained bag. "What is it?" Saul leaned over the arm of the couch. "Couple'a Big Macs and some fries. You want any?" "I dunno, are you sure your fat, pregnant with another man's kid girl friend won't get pissed that you're sharing with me? And that when I say something, I won't be accused of jealousy?" Saul answered bitterly, shaking his too short hair out of his face.

"Saul," Dale sighed, "I'm trying to be nice here. Just eat some food alright? I even got a plain one for Lou." "You did?" Saul spared a glance at the pup, which was growing into a handsome German Sheppard; except for his oversized paws and one ear that constantly flopped over. "Yeah, I was thinking of both of you. Pretty much non-stop." "Lou too?" "He's grown on me, what can I say?" Saul found himself grinning against his will, and made his way over to have dinner with Dale.

Fries slid across the table as Dale dumped the bag out. Saul snatched one up, trying not to cringe at the fact that it was going cold. It wasn't Dale's fault, and he really wanted them to start talking again and being close. He missed his Dale Snuggie, and he hated this whole working thing. It sucked, to be perfectly blunt, and he wanted desperately to quit. Really, he'd only done it to prove to Dale he could, and so Dale would stop harping on about it. As soon as the job they were working on, constructing a new office building, was done he fully intended to quit and go back to his idea of growing his own weed and dealing it. hopefully by then, Angie would've had her kid and gotten off of Dale's back and left them in peace.

Dale crinkled up the paper wrapper his Big Mac had come in and lobbed it into the trash. Saul was still nibbling at the quarter or so of his left, not really interested in it. Lou pressed against his shins, whining for a French fry. "Not hungry?" Saul flicked his gaze up to Dale, noticing how strained the lightness in his voice sounded. "'M fine. Just tired still," he passed the leftovers of the burger to Lou, who snapped them up greedily.

"Should get back to bed then, you do look exhausted," Dale said softly. He hesitantly placed his hand on top of Saul's head, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, maybe," Saul nuzzled into Dale's hand. "You…uh, you coming along? I'm not the only one who's looking tired." "I'll be in soon. I just wanna unwind y'know? Go on ahead. Just keep Lou off my side. I hate waking up covered in fur," Dale gave him a weak grin and ushered him to the bedroom. Saul shuffled off, hitching up his pajama bottoms and glancing back over his shoulder at Dale.

The couch groaned tiredly as Dale slumped down. It hadn't used to be so awkward, not even when making up with Saul under Ted's hideout. He'd been afraid this Angie thing would drive an irreparable rift between them, but two almost cold Big Macs seemed to be all it took to get them moving towards patching things up again. He laughed to himself, startling Lou who was swiping the remaining fries off the table. "Sorry boy. Keep eating, don't mind me. Enjoy the food," Dale ruffled the dog's ears as he got up and walked by, making for the bedroom.

Moonlight cut a wide swath across Saul, highlighting his face, where his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. He was deeply asleep already, barely stirring as Dale slipped between the sheets and wrapped an arm around him. None the less, he still pulled Dale's arm tighter around him, scooting back until they were pressed flush against each other. "Good night Saul," Dale whispered into Saul's hair. "I'm sorry about all this shit. But it's gonna get better, I promise. I…I love you."

* * *

When he woke up, Saul found the bed next to him empty and rumpled, but still warm as though Dale had just left. There was a scrap of stained paper on the pillow, with Dale's cramped, untidy handwriting on it.

_Saul,_

_Gone to see Angie. Don't freak out, it's for a good cause. I'm telling her it's over, that I'm not doing shit for her anymore. I finally realized that I'd be a terrible father. Besides, I got my hands full with you and Lou, and I sorta like life that way. Just the three of us. It's no place for a kid. I'll see ya when you get off work._

_Luv, Dale_

_P.S. there's McGriddles in the microwave for you, and a chocolate milk in the fridge. I swung by work and picked them up for you. You're welcome_

Saul bounded out of bed, trying not to get tripped up by Lou, and looked in the microwave. Indeed, there were McGriddles, and a bottle of chocolate milk in the fridge. But more than that, Dale had signed the note 'Luv' and he had finally grown a pair of cojones and was breaking it off with Angie. Ok, so he still didn't believe that she was pregnant with someone else's kid, but it didn't matter. He felt like bursting into song as he got ready for work. In fact, he did start singing a medley of the Beatles while in the shower, to which Lou added his own version of accompaniment.

* * *

Dale let himself into Angie's apartment uptown, a bag of hash browns from McDonald's in hand. He figured the least he could do is bring her breakfast while breaking up with her. True, she didn't deserve it really, but he felt like being nice one last time.

"Dale?! What…what're you doing here?" Angie asked, pushing her hair back. "I brought breakfast. Also, I gotta talk to you about something," Dale set the bag of food on the tiny table in the just as tiny kitchenette. "Can it, um, can't you wait? I just woke up, still not dressed." Dale eyed her critically; she was still in mismatched pajamas, her swollen belly hanging out from a too small tank top. Faded pink fuzzy slippers adorned her feet, and her hair was hanging listlessly from a messy bun. And there was a dark purple bruise on the side of her neck with a perfect imprint of teeth on it. A bruise that Dale hadn't put there. Not that he would, but still…

"Hey, Angie baby, you cooking? Smells good, whatever it is," a voice, distinctly male, called from down the hall. A shadow played across the wall as the body attached to the voice walked towards them. "Whatcha making little Clark junior?" Clark, the Jeff Goldblum impersonator stopped dead at the end of the hall, nude but for his briefs.

"Shit."

"Sounds about right," Dale said blithely. "Well, this makes what I had to tell you easier Ang. I was gonna tell you I quit being your little slave, and I'm not gonna be the dad. But since I'm not the dad anyway….Listen, keep whatever I bought you. You're gonna need it. I don't care. I've got more important things to do, and a boyfriend to apologize to. Have a nice life."

With a wave over his shoulder, Dale chucked the keys to Angie's car at Clark and left. It was going to be a long fucking walk back to the apartment, but he didn't care. It gave him plenty of time to curse at himself for not believing Saul, and think of ways to subsequently make it up to him.

* * *

The apartment was empty when Dale let himself in, except for Lou. He was greeted by a loud bark and slobber on his shoes and a tail whacking him in the leg. Almost like when Saul greeted him, he thought, laughing to himself. He kicked off his shoes and slumped onto the dilapidated couch. Lou jumped up next to him, laying his head on Dale's knee.

"What d'you wanna watch boy?" Dale asked, ruffling Lou's ears. Lou whined, tail thumping behind him. "Cartoons? That's what I was thinking. Let's see what's on." Dale flipped on the TV and started surfing through the channels. He passed by a news station, and glanced down when Lou's head shot up. The dog leapt from the couch and nosed the TV screen. Dale frowned and went back to the news station. Lou promptly sat down and watched intently. For a second, Dale was to intrigued by the dog's odd behavior to pay attention. Only when he heard the words "fatal" did he jerk his attention to the small screen. His blood ran absolutely cold when the grim faced reported reiterated the story.

"We've just received word of a fatal accident at the construction site down town. It seems the crane operator, who sources say appeared drunk, fell asleep behind the wheel and lost control. The crane crashed into the half completed office building, causing several stories to come falling down on workers below. Two workers have already been confirmed as dead due to falling debris, although many are still unaccounted for. Rescue attempts are underway to sift through the rubble for anymore survivors. Stay tuned for more details."

Lou looked back at Dale and whimpered. Dale unknowingly echoed him. He thought furiously of what Saul had been building, and where. But his mind wouldn't steer away from the fact the news report said "fatal". Oh god, what if Saul was one of the two? Or what if he was trapped under debris, or…or…Dale tripped over Lou and stumbled to the bathroom, heaving his guts into the toilet and collapsing into a shaking heap on the floor. Lou licked his cheek, whining and pawing him.

"It's ok Louie. It's ok. Saul's ok, I hope. Oh god, he better be ok," Dale murmured. He jumped when the buzzer for the door went off. Hope flared up as he thought maybe it was Saul, coming to say he'd gone out to lunch when it happened, he was fine, but they should see what they could do to help. The buzzer went again, longer this time and Dale crawled to his feet and ran to answer it.

"Saul?"

"No, man it's Red. Let me up!"

Dale let Red in, and heard him pounding up the stairs and stumbled back when he flung open the door. Red looked like he'd seen a ghost; he was white as a sheet and sweat stood out on his forehead and upper lip. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and he bent over with hands on his knees to try and catch it. He looked up at the TV and saw it was on the news.

"You saw then?" Red asked, once his could breath. Dale nodded and shut the door.

"Is that…Saul's work site?" he asked. Red glanced up at him, and saw how jittery Dale looked. He really didn't want to be the bearer of bad news here, but it looked like he had no choice.

"Dude, I'm wicked sorry. It's his site. I dunno if he was there, or where he is now. He's not answering his cell."

"He doesn't have one still I think. I don't remember him getting a new one after we chucked his old one in the woods," Dale answered, his voice climbing an octave.

"Dale," Red said slowly. "Don't go panicking now. We gotta get to the site and find out what's going on. Ok? Freaking out won't do any good. Besides, Jessie's doing plenty of that back at our place." Dale nodded slowly. He bent down to pet Lou and poured some more dog food into his bowl. He wasn't sure when he'd be back, and he didn't want to bring the dog down to the site. Once Lou was set, he followed Red out the apartment to his car. Neither of them was in a good state to be driving, but it wasn't as though they had a choice.

"I'll bet he's fine," Red kept saying. "Probably went out, got lunch or just wasn't anywhere near it. He hated the place, wouldn't stay there."

"He wouldn't?" Dale asked.

"Nah, he only did it so you'd be happy. You wanted him to get a job and stuff."

"When did he tell you this?"

"He came over sometimes after work. Y'know, when you were taking care of the chick," Red glanced at Dale. "You were gonna fix things, weren't you?"

"Already started working on it. I left him a note," Dale mumbled. "I told him I was breaking it off with Angie. And I left him breakfast. He's gotta be alright. I need to tell him he was right."

"About what?"

"That I wasn't the dad. Angie was knocked up by Clark, and using me to get stuff for it. He got so mad when I didn't believe him. I'm an idiot." Dale slid lower in the seat, eyes closing. Personally, Red agreed that he'd been an idiot, but now wasn't the time to tell him that.

* * *

The construction site was, to put it bluntly, a clusterfuck. Ambulances fought with fire trucks and cop cars to reach the scene. People were shouting, groaning, screaming; a cacophony that grated on the ears. Dust hung thickly in the air, making breathing a challenge and chunks of debris were still settling, the metal and concrete sliding against each other adding to the noise. The grisly scene was awash in red and blue, as Dale and Red shoved through the crowd. They saw the crane where it was tilted at an angle from where it had hit, and though they tried not to see, it was hard to miss the limbs visible in the rubble.

Dale strained up on tip toe to get a better view. "I don't see him!" he said frantically. He considered climbing on top of a cop car to see, and was almost doing so when Red grabbed the back of his shirt.

"I see him!"

"Where?" Dale jumped down, almost twisting his ankle and looked where Red was pointing.

Saul was on a gurney, being carried away by two paramedics. His face was a mask of blood, and one of his arms was at a bad angle. The rest of him was covered in a thick layer of bloodied dust, but the arm looked to be the worst. He was curled on his side. But his eyes were open and bright, and they widened considerably when they locked with Dale's. Despite all the pain he must've been in, his grimace faded away and his face broke into a wide smile. Then he was gone, loaded into the ambulance.

The ground tilted slightly under Dale, and he would've fallen, but for Red catching him under the arms and dragging him upright.

"You gonna be ok man?" Red asked. Dale nodded weakly and let Red lead him to the car. They _might've_ gone over the speed limit a _tiny_ bit as they drove to the hospital, but fuck it, the cops were all at the construction site, who would pull them over?

* * *

The nurse on duty at the front desk was the same pretty, young brunette from before. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Dale, which gave him pause.

"I recognized your friend being brought in," she explained. "I was hoping you'd show up." She hesitated and looked around as if to be sure they were unwatched. "I can't let you in, they've just sedated him and are working on the arm, but I can take you to his room so you can see for yourself. But don't let anyone know."

Dale followed her upstairs and down a long hallway to Saul's room. "He's in there," she assured him. "He's pretty much ok, except for his arm is badly broken, and there's a chance of cracked ribs. Also, he got a bad cut on his head, but they can fix it no problem. There's no risk of any sort of brain damage, it just looked worse because head wounds always bleed more. Other than that, he's just bruised and scraped up. But he _will_ be fine."

Once she made certain Dale and Red were settled, the nurse returned to her station. Dale sagged into the plastic chair, trying vainly to calm his heart beat. Red stood next to him, and pulled out his cell phone. "Calling the wife, wanna tell her he's gonna be fine. I think I'll go to the cafeteria, you want anything?" Dale shook his head and let Red go.

* * *

For hours he waited there, falling partially asleep only to jolt awake a few minutes later. Nurses and doctors came and went, treating others from the accident and fighting to keep the death toll at two. Red rejoined Dale after a while, and his wife arrived an hour or so later. Dale had never officially met her, and couldn't contain his surprise when he saw that she was, essentially, a blonde bombshell. He gaped for only a moment though, and then returned to trying to peer through the wide window into Saul's room.

"Mr. Denton?" the doctor, peered out of the room at him. Dale nearly got whiplash from snapping his neck up to see him. "Your friend is in stable condition. His ribs were not cracked, just bruised. He needed a few staples to close up the cut on his head, and he'll need to wear a cast on his arm for a while. However, you can go in and see him now. I'd tell you to try not to excite him, but he seems very interested in seeing you, and that combined with the morphine…well, you'll see for yourself."

"Dale!" Saul almost threw himself off the bed at Dale the minute he walked in.

"Saul! Calm down! Seriously, get back on the bed," Dale insisted. Grumbling, Saul climbed back on the bed, cradling his arm in its thick plaster cast.

"Do you wanna sign my cast?" Saul asked. He held out a Sharpie that he'd charmed from one of the nurses. Sighing, Dale scribbled his name on the uneven cast. As he stood back up, he noticed the small, square bald spot on Saul's head where they'd had to shave to put the staples in.

"Oh yeah," Saul giggled. (Definitely the morphine there) "I'm starting to think I should just shave my hair all off."

"Don't you dare," Dale ordered. He sat half way on Saul's bed, and Saul scooted over so he'd have more room.

"Alright, alright. I won't," Saul nuzzled into the crook of Dale's neck. "Thanks for the breakfast too. It was good. How's Lou?"

Dale stared at him. "How're you so calm about this?! Saul, you're in the fuckin' hospital right now!"

"Well, I think it might be the morphine talking. But, Dale, you're here now, so it's ok. I wanted to quit anyway. I hated working there. I just did it for you."

"Yeah, Red told me," Dale answered softly, feeling guilty. If he hadn't been all over Saul to get a job, this wouldn't have happened. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

"It's not your fault," Saul told him automatically.

"Not just for this. For not believing you. I went to see Angie, and that Clark guy was with her. You were right about that too, and I'm sorry," Dale leaned his head on Saul's and slid an arm carefully around him.

"I'd tell you I told you so, but…I'm still feeling all floaty and hazy. But I'd like an apology kiss all the same," Saul tilted his head up. Dale grinned and rolled his eyes, but pressed his lips gently to Saul's. "Love you," Dale mumbled, resting his forehead on Saul's. Saul chuckled, "Ditto."

From behind them came a chorus of "Awwww!" as Red, Jessica his wife, and the brunette nurse peeked in through the open door on them.

* * *

Saul was soon released from the hospital, and a month after that, was free of the cast and the staples. He quit his job working construction, and with Red's help started growing his own weed and built up a steady clientele. Once he had enough money gathered together, as a surprise for Dale, he bought them a house on the fringes of town.

It was a nice, one story place, with a big back yard for Lou, and a finished basement which he used for his business. Not only that, but the kitchen was huge, so he could bake to his heart's content.

Dale stayed at McDonalds at Saul's insistence. He was beginning to think the smell of French fries was like an aphrodisiac for Saul, which didn't weird him out as much as he thought it should. In fact, he had Saul's love of the smell of greasy fries on him to thank when he became the assistant manager at the joint, and his pay increased. Enough that he could buy a present for Saul.

"Hey Saul!"

"Dale! You're home early," Saul leaned out of the kitchen, dressed in just his apron and sweat pants.

"Yeah well, I got something," Dale trailed off as he chucked his shoes off in the living room. He fiddled with his present that was tucked in his shirt pocket. Saul padded into the room, still stirring the bowl of brownie batter. He nearly dropped the bowl when Dale knelt down and held out a little velvet box.

"Dale? What the hell are you doing?" he asked hesitantly.

"Just open the damn box, will ya?" Dale grinned. Saul set down the bowl and opened the box. His eyes widened and he looked between the contents and Dale before jumping into Dale's arms.

"You are the best boyfriend a guy could ask for, you know that? Also, incredibly, adorably, lamely sentimental. Where did you get these?"

"I got'em made especially for us. I even gave Red his half, seeing as he wanted one. But I made sure you got the middle. But the rings are just for us," Dale answered, climbing to his feet and carrying Saul down the hall to their room. The box lay still open on the kitchen table.

Inside were four things. A necklace witch held the crooked on both sides middle of a best friend heart, as well as one side. Next to them were two rings, each engraved with "BFFF".

_A/N: can you handle all that fluff? I almost couldn't. But it was a good ending, right? I know, the whole thing was kind of short, only 7 chapters, but they were a good 7 chapters I think. still, reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated. _


End file.
